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ELEMENTS 



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PHILOSOPHY OF MIND, 



APPLIED TO THE 



DEVELOPEMENT 



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THOUGHT AND FEELING. 

- / 

BY MRS. ELIZABETH RICORD, 

PRINCIPAL OF THE GENEVA FEMALE SEMINARY. 



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.J; In man, the more we dive, the more we see 
IJeavVs signet stamping an immortal make. 
Divo to lUe bottom of his soul, the base 
Sustaining all. what find we? Knowledge, love. 
As light and heat essential to the sun, 
These to the soul. Yooko. 



GENEVA: 

PUBLISHED BY JOHN N. BOGERT. 

NEW-YORK » 

COLLINS, KEESE AND CO. 

And for eale by the Booksellers generally. 

MDCCCXL. 



^s-T. 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1839, 

BY MRS. ELIZABETH RICORD, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Northern District of 
New-York. 



PRINTED AT THE BOOK AND JOB OFFICE 
OF STOW AND FRAZEE, GENEVA. 



PREFACE 



This Volume, commenced some years ago, in the 
form of Lectures, addressed to Pupils in a Female 
Seminary, is chiefly the labour of thought and expe- 
rience. As a Teacher, the Author felt the necessity 
of a work on this important branch of science, adapted 
to the instruction of her own sex, and sought to draw 
from her own resources, as well as from the records 
of History and Biography, such illustrations as might 
assist the mind in making a practical application of the 
leading facts of Mental Philosophy. 

This "Work, is based on the Truth as we find it 
revealed in the Sacred Scriptures, and is not intended 
to enter into the intricate disquisitions of the Meta- 
physical schools. The Author, has not, however, 
been negligent in searching into the opinions of some 
of the best writers on this Branch of Science, and 
hopes, if not in perfect agreement, at least she will 
not be found in any great discordance with the senti- 
ments of the wisest and the most esteemed. Truth, 
as it is found in Reason and Revelation is her object. 

With the strongest sentiments of affection for the 
Youth of her country, more especially those of her 
own sex, to whose instruction for the last fourteen 
years, she has devoted her time ; to those, whose future 



IT FREFACE. 

influence will soon be identified with all the objects 
most hallowed by us, our literary, political, moral and 
religious Institutions ; to these Youth, to their Teach- 
ers, and to their Mothers, this Work is now presented 
By their affectionate Friend, 

The Author, 
Geneva, December 14th, 1839. 



fio 



CONTENTS. 



PART FIRST. 

CHAPTER FIRST. 
Introduction, - V a ^ 1 I" 

CHAPTER SECOND. 
Existence of Mind, - 12 

CHAPTER THIRD. 
Immateriality of Mind, - - - - 18 

CHAPTER FOURTH. 
Immortality of the Soul, - - - - 31 

CHAPTER FIFTH. 
Exalted Nature and Destination of the Soul, - 46 

PART SECOND. 

CHAPTER FIRST. 
Mind Indivisible and Capable of Action, - 57 

CHAPTER SECOND. 
The Developement of Mind and its Capability 

of Knowing, 74 

CHAPTER THIRD. 
Consciousness, - - - - - - 90 

CHAPTER FOURTH. 

Sensation, 101 

CHAPTER FIFTH. 
Attention, 117 



VI CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER SIXTH. 

Conception, 139 

CHAPTER SEVENTH. 

Memory, 160 

CHAPTER EIGHTH. 

Association, 189 

CHAPTER NINTH. 

Abstraction, 216 

CHAPTER TENTH. 
Reason and Understanding, - 230 

CHAPTER ELEVENTH. 
Judgment, - - - - - - -249 

CHAPTER TWELFTH. 
Imagination, 284 

PART THIRD. 

CHAPTER FIRST. 
Feeling, 217 

CHAPTER SECOND. 
Taste, - - 32g 

CHAPTER THIRD. 
Emotions Connected with our Happiness, - 348 

CHAPTER FOURTH. 
Emotions continued, 36S 

PART FOUR. 

CHAPTER FIRST. 
Moral Sense and Conscience, - - - 381 

CHAPTER SECOND. 
Moral Responsibility, 394 



Elements of the Philosophy of Mind, 



PART I. 



CHAPTER I. 



INTRODUCTION, 



Philosophy is the science of reason. It inves- 
tigates causes, and is the highest knowledge that 
can be obtained of a subject.. It is by Cousin 
called reflection, " the abstraction of thought 
from every external form." 

Metaphysics is the general name given to the 
sciences that treat of immaterial subjects. The 
branch relating to soul or mind, is that, to which 
these Lectures call your attention : it is Mental 
or Intellectual Philosophy. This science will 
lead you to an acquaintance with the powers of 
your own minds, and be the first step in that 
most important part of your education, Self- 
Knowledge. We are assured, by a much- 
esteemed writer, that, " in order to a true self- 
knowledge, the human mind with its various 
powers and operations, must be narrowly in- 
spected : all its secret springs and motives as- 
certained : otherwise, our self-acquaintance will 



INTRODUCTION. 



be but partial and defective; and the heart, 
after all, will deceive us." # 

The science of Physiology has already made 
you acquainted with animated nature, more es- 
pecially with the human frame. Upon exam- 
ination, we find the animal body to be a most 
complicated piece of machinery, wonderful in 
its operations, and easily deranged in its move- 
ments. The design visible in every part, shews 
that it was intended to contribute to the enjoy- 
ment, as well as to the operations of its inhab- 
itant, the Soul. The eye, alone, is sufficient 
to shew the matchless skill of its Contriver. 
This delicate instrument is more complicated in 
its formation, more beautiful in its appearance, 
and is better adapted to usefulness and pleasure, 
than is any piece of workmanship ever invented 
by the most ingenious artist. 

Yet the eye is but an instrument, designed to 
convey to the mind, ideas of the innumerable 
objects of use and beauty, with which this earth 
abounds. The ear, formed with equal delicacy 
and skill, is nothing less than the instrument of 
communication between mind and mind ; im- 
parting to the soul thoughts and feelings that 
have enlightened and affected other souls. The 
tongue, that wonderful organ, moved by so great 
a variety of muscles, that no dissector's knife 

* Mason, on Seif-Knowledge. 



INTRODUCTION. 3 

has been able to trace them, seems designed 
chiefly, as an instrument to the mind. 

Since, then, this body, " so fearfully and won- 
derfully made," is intended for no purpose but 
to be the receptacle, or, as Plato calls it, the 
" prison of the soul or mind," how much more 
precious, more wonderful must be the soul, for 
which so glorious an abode is furnished ! 

At the head of animated forms, we find the 
human frame, the noblest of material objects ; 
the last, best exhibition of Divine skill, enclo- 
sing the immaterial spirit, said by St. Augus- 
tine, to be excelled by no object in the universe, 
except its Creator. 

Mind, when viewed in its wonderful qualities 
and operations, gives to us a more conclusive 
proof of the existence of the great Creator, the 
first Intelligence, than all the evidences gathered 
by Dr. Paley, or any other, in the world of 
matter. " Shall we then," says Lord Brougham, 
" deny that the eye could be made without skill 
in optics, and yet admit that the mind could be 
fashioned and endowed, without the most ex- 
quisite of all skill, or could proceed from any 
but an Intellect of infinite power ?"* 

When we consider the developement of sim- 
ple ideas in the mind, until it reaches the power 

* Brougham's Discourse on Natural Theology. 



4 INTRODUCTION. 

of reasoning such as we find it in a Newton, we 
are amazed that this evidence of divine skill did 
not occur to a reasoner so acute as Paley. The 
instincts found among brutes, whereby each is 
adapted to his peculiar state of existence, often 
strike us with admiration, and lead us to ac- 
knowledge a contriving Mind, or creating Cause : 
but what comparison can be instituted between 
the instinct of the beaver in constructing his 
habitation, and the intelligence of man in erect- 
ing, not only buildings for his comfort, but pal- 
aces for his pride ; in his invention that provides 
a ship for the circumnavigation of the globe, or 
a balloon to ascend to heights whence the earth 
is scarcely visible ? 

The brightness, the velocity, the regularity 
of motion in the celestial bodies, strike us with 
awe, and we cannot but exclaim, "the heavens 
declare the glory of God, and the firmament 
sheweth his handy work." But, when we con- 
sider the brightness of the human intellect, the 
sparkling of wit, the velocity of thought, more 
rapid than can be conceived, the wonderful 
order with which the mind proceeds in its power 
of reasoning, and reason itself, — we are con- 
strained to acknowledge that Man is the highest 
object in this part of creation, and his Mind the 
most amazing instance of the skill of the Creat- 
ing Mind : 



INTRODUCTION. O 

•• How poor, how rich, how abject, how august! 
How complicate, how wonderful is Mao ! 
How passing wonder He, who made him such! 
Who centered in our make, such strange extremes 
From different natures, marvellously mix'd ; 
Connexion exquisite of distant worlds! 
Distinguished link in being's endless chain ! 
Midway from nothing to the Deity ! 
An heir of glory, a frail child of dust. 
Helpless immortal, insect infinite ! 
A worm, a god ! I tremble at myself, 
And in myself, am lost." Young. 

With these impressions of the noble nature of 
man, must not those, to say the least, be con- 
sidered unwise and wanting in self-respect, 
who, in the years devoted to studj^, give by far 
the greater proportion of their time to the con- 
sideration of subjects, connected almost exclu- 
sively with material objects, while they utterly 
neglect those more intimately concerned with 
the immortal Mind ? They devote years to the 
investigation of the nature, and the classification 
of minerals, of plants, or of animals ; they are 
curious in acquiring a knowledge of chemical 
compounds ; they seek to understand the laws 
by which, the bodies that compose the universe 
are governed ; they puzzle themselves with the 
combinations of numbers, and indefatigably 
study the relation of surfaces ; while the his- 
tory of their own nature, the investigation of 



INTRODUCTION. 



those powers of mind by which they stand re- 
lated to superior Intelligences, to God himself, 
is totally disregarded. 

Perhaps it may be said of many of our youth, 
more especially of the other sex, that they give 
years of study to the acquirement of languages, 
that are not to be used even for the purpose of 
expressing thoughts as they pass in :a constant 
succession through the mind, while thought it- 
self, in its various combinations, is never under- 
stood, or properly arranged by them. Not that 
the above sciences are by any means to be 
undervalued ; it is only contended that the study 
of ourselves, of our relations to each other, and 
to God, should find a prominent place among 
them. 

How melancholy is the truth, that many a 
lovely creature grows up to maturity of body, 
without a definite knowledge that she is much 
superior, except in beauty, to the butterfly she 
paints, while she considers herself flattered by a 
comparison with the lily or the rose. She knows 
no other use of sweet sounds, in which she per- 
haps employs one-third of the precious day, 
than to amuse the listless hours, or to attract 
the passing mead of admiration. Abridging the 
moments of a life too short for the developement 
of the powers of a soul, that here begins its 
eternal existence ; wasting the freshness, the 



INTRODUCTION. 



sprightliness, the elasticity of youth, in those 
gratifications that will leave age without a charm, 
eternity without a hope ! 

It is a lamentable fact, that in the education 
of our sex, the showy, even in intellectual ac- 
quirements, is more sought after, than the solid. 
We are not so much taught to look in upon our- 
selves, as out upon others ; into the immaterial 
world, as upon the material world. The mind is 
so hurried from one subject to another, that little 
time is left to examine any. We are engaged 
in seeing and hearing, not in reflecting. We 
have no leisure to enter within ourselves, to in- 
quire what we are, or what we are likely to be. 
We seem to take for granted that the objects 
apparent are reality, when the serious truth is, 
that the things invisible will soon be to us, the 
sole realities ; that the Soul, w T ith its amazing 
powers, its responsibilities, and its relation to 
its Creator, will soon be the only subject with 
which we can be concerned. 

"It is admitted, of course, that we can no 
more create matter than we can mind, and we 
can influence mind in a way altogether anala- 
gous to our power of modulating matter. By 
means of the properties of matter, we can form 
instruments, machines and figures. So, by 
availing ourselves of the properties of mind, we 
can affect the intellectual faculties — exercising 



INTRODUCTION", 



them, training and improving them : producing, 
as it were, new forms to the understanding. 
Nor is there a greater difference between the 
mass of rude iron, from which we make steel, 
and the thousands of watch-springs into which 
that steel is cut, or the chronometer which we 
form of this and other masses equally inert — 
than there is between the untutored, indocile 
faculties of a rustic, who has grown up to man- 
hood without education, and the skill of the 
artist who invented the chronometer, and the 
mathematician who uses it to trace the motions 
of the heavenly bodies." 

The above beautiful passage, extracted from 
Lord Brougham's Discourse on Natural The- 
ology, shews strikingly the difference established 
in the human family by the cultivation of the 
mental powers. The savage inhabitant of New- 
Zealand, or the Hottentot of South Africa, seems 
but little advanced in intellect above the Ourang- 
Outang of his native woods, while the enlight- 
ened, refined and benevolent Christian, appears 
to belong to beings of a superior nature. 

The possibility must be admitted that the 
mind of a savage might be so cultivated, by 
early and careful instruction, as to bring him to 
an equality with the enlightened and refined 
inhabitant of Christendom. Still it seems dif- 
ficult to admit with Cousin, that "man in intel- 



INTRODUCTION. 9 

lect is equal to man," and that "the only differ- 
ence that exists, is the difference of more or 
less, the difference of form." He says, " A 
peasant, the meanest of peasants, knows as 
much as Leibnitz, about himself, about the world 
and God, and about their relations: but he does 
not possess the secret and complete explication 
of that knowledge, he knows not how to account 
for it."* 

The discussion of this difference of opinion 
respecting the equality of mind, imports but 
little in this place. It may not be true that 
" man is the equal of man," yet it undoubtedly 
is true, that cultivation may render the mean- 
est of peasants equal to Leibnitz himself. God 
is no "respecter of persons" in the bestowment 
of His gifts. As he has made of " one blood" 
all nations of the earth, so has He dispensed 
intellect, high and powerful, among every na- 
tion, rank and sex. He has not indeed "seen 
fit to clothe all flesh with the same muscular 
power, or to crown all flesh with the same in- 
tellectual stature, or to confound all flesh with 
the same providential allotments ;"f yet in intel- 
lectual endowments as well as in other respects, 
has He placed us in the same state of respon- 

* History of Philosophy, by Victor Cousin, page 38. 
f Mr. Barnard's Discourse before the Phi Beta Kappa 
Society. 



10 INTRODUCTION. 

sibility, as rested upon those among whom the 
Lord divided the talents. None are excusable 
for the misimprovement of these powers, or for 
neglect in their cultivation ; more especially are 
those guilty, who having themselves drank 
largely from the streams of knowledge and of 
truth, think lightly of participating them with 
others. 

Knowledge, that is, self-knowledge, and the 
knowledge of God, are treasures open to all. 
The one we carry within us, the other we find 
in the Book of Revelation. With the first of 
these we have now to do. In this, as well as in 
every other intellectual acquisition, we find 
humble and patient inquiry an indispensable 
requisite. To know ourselves, we must turn 
our thoughts within : we must examine the 
means, or powers we possess, internally, for 
acquiring knowledge, and use them industri- 
ously ; we must look at the springs of internal 
action, and direct them properly. 

In this study would I most earnestly direct 
you to the Word of God. There, alone, will 
you find a true history of man, from his first 
formation. In that sacred Book, are laid open 
all the springs of action in the soul, and the 
causes which philosophy no where points out, 
of the defect, so apparent, in human character. 
And there, where you study the disease, will 



x INTRODUCTION. 11 

you find the remedy, and the great Physician 
to make the application. 

May these Lectures aid you, my beloved young 
friends, in this research. May you be led to see 
your own strength, as well as your own weak- 
ness ; the exaltation of your nature, as well as 
its degradation. Your inability in yourselves to 
change what is wrong — your power in God to 
do what is right. 

The subject before us will be divided into 
four parts : 

1st. The existence, nature and destination of 
the soul. 

2d. Its power of acquiring, retaining and 
usino- knowledge. 

3d. Its capability of enjoying or suffering, 
arising from its relation to surrounding objects, 
or to other beings. 

4. Its moral responsibility. 

The First Part will bring evidence of the ex- 
istence of Mind independent of Matter ; of its 
superiorly to the mere animal ; its affinity to 
the Creating Mind ; and its state of progression, 
arguing its immortal and high destiny. 

The Second Part will treat of the Develope- 
ment of the Intelligence and Reason in Con- 
sciousness, Sensible Perception, Attention, Con- 
ception, Memory, Association, Imagination, Ab- 
straction and Judgment. 



12 EXISTENCE OF MIND. 

The Third Part will comprise the Emotions 
and Passions of the Soul. 

The Fourth, the Will and Conscience, inclu- 
ding directions for the cultivation of Mind, and 
the formation of Character. 



CHAPTER II. 



EXISTENCE OF MIND. 



Matter is substance that may be perceived 
through the medium of the senses. It has form, 
colour, weight, taste, smell ; is hard or soft, 
moveable or immoveable. Those who are ac- 
quainted with the principles of Natural Philos- 
ophy, will perceive that some of these proper- 
ties are inherent in matter, and that others de- 
pend on circumstances. The human body is a 
material substance ; that is, it has the properties 
of matter — so has a stone or rock. 

When we enquire into the difference between 
the animal body and a stone, we perceive that 
the stone has no voluntary or instinctive motion, 
no apparent growth ; that it does not decay. 
The animal body grows, after a certain time 
decays and dies, then turns to dust. This is 
also true of a plant. 

The plant from a seed, springs out of the 



EXISTENCE OP MIND. 13 

ground. Like an animal, it grows from a state 
of infancy to maturity ; it then withers and dies. 
A stone or rock has no life ; it is inanimate. A 
plant has life, for it grows, it blossoms, bears 
fruit and decays : it is animate ; but it has no 
power to remove from the place assigned it ; 
where it is planted, there it remains. Though 
provided with vessels to receive nourishment, 
it has no organs of sight, of hearing, or of smell ; 
neither has it a voice to utter sound. But man 
has voluntary action and five senses, enabling 
him to perceive objects ; so has a horse or a dog. 
Still there is a difference ; a brute ' animal 
moves as his inclination prompts him ; he per- 
ceives objects by means of sight, hearing, or any 
of the senses ; but there is a difference in the 
perception and movements of man, that shows 
an existence above that of the mere animal. A 
dog or any other brute animal undoubtedly per- 
ceives common objects, but he is attracted to 
them in no other way than as they serve to grat- 
ify his appetite, or minister to his comfort. He 
avoids them when annoyed or frightened. But 
who ever saw a brute take pleasure in the beauty 
of form or of color ; find rapture in the sublim- 
ity of objects, or admire their utility ? Sounds 
are distinguished by brutes so nicely that they 
perceive danger when man hears nothing ; the 
slightest whistle from the masters' s lips, will 



14 EXISTENCE OF MIND. 

arouse the attention of his faithful dog ; the tones 
of affection and reproof convey meaning to him. 
But brutes are not moved by the most power- 
ful eloquence; neither do they understand ne- 
cessary relations. The highest moral action 
draws no approbation, even from brutes, like 
the monkey, of instinct so wonderful, that it 
often seems to surpass the greatest human 
acuteness. 

Man, in common with other animals, has appe- 
tites and senses, that enable him to provide for his 
existence, and the comforts of sensitive life. He 
sees objects that are good or hurtful ; he has the 
power of motion to seize or avoid them ; he has 
appetites that prompt him to prolong his exist- 
ence. So far is he an animal. But in man 
there is something which brutes do not possess. 
Sensible objects, when perceived by him, act 
upon a hidden spring, causing the overflowing 
of joy, or of sorrow ; occasioning approbation 
or disgust. The loveliness of a spring morning 
— the stillness of a summer evening — the va- 
riety of natural scenery, produce delight. The 
soft tones of the flute, still more those of the 
human voice, have for the ear an inexpressible 
charm. While on the contrary, objects unnat- 
ural or loathsome, create disgust. Sounds that 
are harsh or discordant, occasion pain. An act 
of benevolence gains approbation; amiability 



EXISTENCE OF MIND. 15 

of disposition attracts affection, and a cruel ac- 
tion, or a wicked character, would meet with 
disapprobation, even abhorrence. 

In instinct, also, man in his infant and savage 
state, is an animal. The actions that in those 
conditions tend to preserve life and provide for 
its wants, are mostly instinctive. But in this 
he is far the inferior of the brute. Instinct would 
not teach a child to distinguish poison from food ; 
nor would it teach a man to work unerringly as 
does the bee, by a rule that has never varied 
for thousands of years ; choosing for the con- 
struction of its habitation the best of all possible 
angles ; one hundred and twenty degrees for the 
sides of its little room, and the angles of one hun- 
dred and ten and seventy degrees for the incli- 
nations of the roof. In this, the little insect 
never varies, it never improves. But man has 
something within by which he knows the essen- 
tial relations of things, by which he knows him- 
self, and by which he learns to distinguish what 
is good for him and what is hurtful. He grad- 
ually learns to improve his condition, to mul- 
tiply his comforts, even to luxuries. He also 
subdues animals, who far surpass him in strength. 
Not only brutes, but every element in nature be- 
come his property ; time and opportunity ren- 
der him master of the whole material world. 

These instances show that there is in man 



16 EXISTENCE OF MIND. 

something upon which sensible and moral ob- 
jects act, causing emotions of pain and pleasure, 
as well as high attainment of power. In these 
respects, as well as in speech, we find no affin- 
ity between man and the brute. 

But there are other instances that show a 
higher nature than the animal. An object is 
presented to the sight, —we notice its form, its 
colour and other qualities. We close our eyes, 
or withdraw the object, but it is not gone ; its 
form, its colour, is still there. Still where? it 
is present, but not to the eye. We have then 
a sight which is not of the body. We hear 
sounds at night that terrify us ; at the return of 
the same season, - the same sounds return with 
all their terror. Scenes or circumstances in 
which we have formerly been interested, friends 
of past years, return to us in the hours of soli- 
tude or of darkness. Return, not to our bodily 
senses, no, but to something within us, upon 
which the impression made is often deeply pain- 
ful, or highly pleasurable. Different objects 
being presented, we immediately compare them 
as to beauty, utility, or other qualities, and with- 
in ourselves establish a preference. Should 
this proffered object be attainable, a desire of 
possession arises, and we take measures to ac- 
quire what to us appears desirable , success in 
this would produce joy, disappointment, sor- 



EXISTENCE OF MIND. 17 

row. The expectation of desired good, creates 
hope, the certainty that it cannot be obtained, 
despair. Injuries received, fill us with anger, 
good bestowed, with gratitude ; and we feel 
within us liberty to act or not to act, as inclina- 
tion prompts. 

When we reflect upon ourselves and perceive 
within us this power of retaining the images of 
outward objects, of recalling, of connecting and 
comparing them ; when we attend to the emo- 
tions such objects produce, and the actions they 
prompt, we feel assured that there is within us 
a thinking, active, feeling principle. To this 
has been given the name of Mind, or Soul. It 
has already been shown that the body is mate- 
rial , that is, it has the properties of matter : It 
grows and lives like a plant, it moves, sees, 
hears, feels, like an animal, and at length dies 
and returns like every kind of matter, to original 
dust. The Soul is not matter. It is neither to 
be seen or touched, nor do we know in what 
part of the body it is lodged. We call it imma- 
terial ; it is, strictly speaking, that part we call 
Myself. When death has dissolved the connec- 
tion between the body and Soul of a dear friend, 
we say he is gone ; though the body lies before 
us, we call it the corpse. The Soul, or Mind, 
was Himself. 

" The evidence for the existence of Mind, is 
2 



18 IMMATERIALITY OF MIND. 

to the full as complete as that upon which we 
believe the existence of Matter. Indeed it is 
more certain and more irrefragable. The con- 
sciousness of existence, the perpetual sense that 
we are thinking and that we are performing the 
operation quite independently of all natural ob- 
jects, proves to us the existence of a being dif- 
ferent from our bodies, with a degree of evidence 
higher than we can have for die existence of 
these bodies themselves, or any other part of 
the material world. It is certain that many 
of the perceptions of matter which we derive 
through the senses are deceitful, and seem to 
indicate that it has no reality at all. But that 
the Mind, that the sentient principle, that the 
thing or being which we call I and we, and which 
thinks, feels, reasons, should have no existence, 
is a contradiction in terms."* 



CHAPTER III. 



IMMATERIALITY OF MIND. 



Having established a belief in the existence 
of that which we call ourself, or mind, we nat- 
urally enquire whether this thinking, active, 
feeling part be the body itself, so ennobled and 

* Brougham's Discourse on Nat. Theology, pp. 47, 48. 



IMMATERIALITY OF MIND. 19 

refined, or whether it be something within, that 
thinks, and acts, and feels, apart from the body? 
This enquiry becomes the more interesting 
from the consideration that the doctrine of Ma- 
terialism, making the Mind or Soul, nothing 
more than Matter refined and ennobled into 
thought and feeling, has at the present time 
been revived and extensively taught among us. 
According to a late and renowned writer, who 
asserts, "that until Phrenology was discovered, 
the nature of man was not scientifically known ;" 
" man is like other animals, a purely organic 
creature, with this difference ; that being less 
perfect in some of his organs, he surpasses the 
lower animals in the organs of Constructiveness 
and Reflection." Also, " that mental talents 
and dispositions are determined by the size and 
construction of the brain."* Another writer calls 
" birth and death the Alpha and Omega of exist- 
ence" ? t Without attempting any argument to 
disprove such theories, it may not be amiss to 
inform the Christian student, that the opinions 
depending on Materialism have been adopted 
mostly by those, who, in some way, depart 
from the truth revealed in the Bible. f Mate- 
rialism, in all its shades, must fall before the 
Word of Inspiration, which declares, that " the 

* Constitution of Man, by Combe. 

f Philosophy of Sleep. X Note A. 



20 IMMATERIALITY OF MIND. 

Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground? 
and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, 
and man became a living soul." The above 
passage, from Genesis, as well as the declara- 
tion of the Apostle in the 5th Chapter of the 2d 
Corinthians, we, who profess Christianity, must 
deem conclusive. St. Paul speaks of the soul 
as distinct from the body, using for its designa- 
tion the personal pronoun We, while he calls 
the body the tabernacle or transient dwelling of 
its noble and immortal inhabitant ; the soul being 
destined at the dissolution of its frail tenement, 
to be fixed in a surer and better habitation, for, 
says he, " we have a building of God, an house 
not made with hands, eternal in the heavens." 

We see plainly from these passages that, by 
the will of the Father of Spirits, the soul of 
man, created in His own image, and, as ex- 
pressed, by His own breath, was placed in a 
receptacle, already prepared, of the material 
substance that enters into the composition 
of the earth and its products. An importance 
is attached to the creation of man, very unlike 
what is recorded of the formation of beings 
purely organic or animal. The account given us 
in Genesis, shows that the living creatures whose 
existence belongs solely to earth, sprung forth 
from its surface, at the command of the Creator, 
numerous in kind and form. Animal life and 



IMMATERIALITY OF MIND. 21 

its adaptation to the various elements they were 
to inhabit, are all we find noticeable of them. 
To the creation of man our attention is called 
by these very remarkable words : "let us make 
man." Here speaks the uncreated Godhead, 
as if in consultation how to form this noble crea- 
ture. A body was then prepared, and in that 
earthly habitation was placed the immaterial, 
immortal spirit, made, not in proportions ac- 
cording to the form and size given to the breath- 
ing clay, but in the image of its glorious Maker. 

But many arguments may be drawn from the 
nature of the soul itself, to prove its immate- 
riality, as well as its immortality. 

Our observation teaches us, that man exists 
in two states, entirely different from each other. 
The l)ody has its pains and pleasures, so has 
the soul, but, how unlike the one to the other : 
eating, drinking, rest and motion, depend on the 
senses or bodily powers, and give enjoyments, 
such as all animals possess. Hunger, and thirst, 
and pain, produce suffering that brutes endure 
equally with man. The above are the pains and 
pleasures of sensation, and are as keenly felt in 
infancy as in age. The soul has other enjoy- 
ments and other sufferings. Its thoughts, its 
reasonings, its feelings, are often independent 
of sensible perceptions. The blind and the deaf 
have their pleasures. The sick and the suffer- 



22 IMMATERIALITY OF MIND. 

ing in body, their enjoyments ; the healthy, the 
rich, and those surrounded by the delights of 
sense, have their sorrows. 

When once the mind has received ideas by 
means of the senses, it is busy within itself, not 
needing further aid from them, in arranging, 
combining and analyzing its own ideas and 
conceptions. It needs not the eye, to recall the 
objects of sight, for the darkest night cannot shut 
from the mind the scenery of earth and heaven. 
Without sight or hearing, the blind may be made 
to conceive the ideas of other minds ; and it is a 
remarkable fact, that those who are deprived of 
the use of their senses, exercise attention most 
readily and acutely. When we wish to reflect 
on a subject or understand it, what means are 
so effectual, as shutting out the perception of 
every foreign object ? 

Again, the train of thought depending on asso- 
ciation, by which one idea introduces another, 
has nothing to do with the sensible perceptions. 
In this state, the mind will wander a length of 
time, unconscious of any thing, but its own con- 
ceptions. Imagination combines images so as 
to form compounds never perceived by any of 
the senses. Who of us ever saw the Garden 
of Eden ? Yet the mind of Milton painted it, 
and that of every reader can take in the con- 
ception of the poet. The imagination forms 



IMMATERIALITY OF MIND. 



within the mind a world of its own, gives ex- 
istence to things that in themselves have no real- 
itv, carries the mind where the body cannot fol- 
low. Memory turns the mental vision on the 
past, — imagination to the future ; and the soul, 
Janus-like, looks two ways ; while the body, 
by its sensible perception, is confined to the 
present. 

" We know the existence of mind by our con- 
sciousness of, or reflection on what passes within 
us, and our own existence, as sentient and think- 
ing beings, implies the existence of the mind 
that has thought and sense. It is impossible to 
conceive that that part which thinks, remem- 
bers, compares, imagines, that of which we are 
every moment conscious, should not exist. We 
must conclude, that it does exist, and exists 
independently of the body."* Consciousness, 
which is the evidence to the soul of its own ex- 
istence, demonstrates by means of the memory, 
that the same thinking principle within us, which 
we call ourselves, or the soul, that which now 
thinks and feels, is the same that thought and 
felt, as far back as thought and feeling can go. 
The bright things* that delighted us in infancy, 
the joys and sorrows of later years, the acquire- 
ments of childhood and youth, the reflections 
of maturity, are all before us, as life advances 

* Brougham. 



24 IMMATERIALITY OF MIND. 

to its close. The mind is one, indivisible, in- 
destructible. Memory connects the great chain 
of its existence ; not a link is broken. This is 
personal identity. 

The body and the soul are united, but in their 
modes of existence, are very unlike each other. 
The body we have now, is not the same body 
we had some time ago. Probably since our 
birth every particle of it is changed. This is 
effected by insensible perspiration and other 
evacuations, by which the particles of the body 
are thrown off, while the food we take, supplies 
their places with others. Like the river that 
flows at our feet, we look upon it with delight ; 
it is the stream that charmed the days of our 
childhood, but it contains not one drop of the 
water upon which we joyously sported. Again 
and again, has it mingled with the ocean, while 
from the clouds above has it as often been re- 
plenished. The body is formed of parts, is 
destructible ; but the destruction or loss of a 
part of the body, takes nothing from the power 
or value of the soul. 

The body, in fact, is nothing but the instru- 
ment of the soul. As the eye uses a glass, as 
the hand manages a plough or a spade, so does 
the soul use the bodily organs. Vision to the 
eye would be useless, should the mind refuse 
to lift the eyelids. The feet, of themselves, 



IMMATERIALITY OP MIND. 25 

could not move, should the will determine to 
remain at rest. Indeed, it is not the eye which 
perceives, but the mind ; it is not the feet 
which walk, but the will which moves them. 
Still more, the mind creates instruments to in- 
crease the perceptions and movements of the 
body, or to remedy loss and defects in its parts. 
Glasses are made by man to assist the sight, 
carriages to accelerate his motions, cork-limbs 
to supply the places of those that by accident 
axe lost. In these instances, we see the supe- 
riority of the soul, indeed, its dominion over, 
the body ; for often, hunger and thirst, cold and 
other hardships, are forced upon the body, that 
the mind may not be hindered in its pursuits and 
acquirements. 

But there are ideas which the senses, dperar 
ting upon the understanding, do not produce. 
Doth the eye or the ear discover truth necessary 
or moral ? No, but it is the reason : this, also, 
in noticing thought, discovers the source of 
thought, the soul, and the Eternal Source of all 
things, God. Reason, when it becomes the moral 
perception, called conscience, shows most per- 
fectly the soul's independence of the body. We 
make a distinction between wrong and right, in 
actions, disapproving the one, and approving the 
other. Many of these actions are prompted by 
bodily appetites, and in brutes would not be 



26 IMMATERIALITY OP MIND. 

censurable. We should not blame a cow that 
destroyed our garden in her search for food, nor 
a lion who killed a man to appease his hunger : 

"Account for this prerogative in brutes. 

They drink the stream, 
Unbrew'd, and, ever full and unembittered 
With doubts, fears, fruitless hopes, regrets, despair, 
Their good, is good entire, unmix'd, unraarr'd ; 
They find a paradise in every field, 
On boughs forbidden, where no curses hang." 

With man, this is not so ; the gratification of 
desire, if attended by a wrong or injurious ac- 
tion, is to him a source of disquiet, often of keen 
anguish. Many cases are on record, where the 
murderer, in the full enjoyment of the benefit 
he expected from the accomplishment of his 
guilty act, has been forced, by the insufferable 
torments of conscience to deliver himself up into 
the hands of justice. 

Again, death, which comes to man as well as 
to the brute, comes not to both alike. This ill 
to brutes, 

"No more than strikes the sense, unstretch'd 
By previous dread, or murmur in the rear ; 
When the worst comes, it comes unfear'd, one stroke 
Begins and ends their wo ; they die but once ; 
Blest incommunicable privilege ! for which 
Proud man, who rules the globe, and reads the stars, 
Philosopher, or hero, sighs in vain." 

In the above illustrations, we perceive that 



IMMATERIALITY OF MIND. 27 

the mind or soul has occupations, enjoyments 
and sufferings, in which the body does not par- 
ticipate ; hence it may be argued, that the soul 
does not depend upon the body, either for its 
existence, for its operations or its feelings ; it 
may act, be happy or be miserable without it. 
In the most essential respects, it stands inde- 
pendent of its corporeal partner. 

The question may here arise, why then was 
the soul placed in connection with a body, sub- 
ject to so many infirmities, diseases, sufferings, 
and even death itself ? Why should that which 
is immaterial, be chained to that which is ma- 
terial and mortal ? 

This, conjecture cannot satisfactorily answer. 
We again refer to the testimony of Revelation. 
There we are told that man was placed at the 
head of this earthly creation to enjoy all the 
treasures, springing from its bosom ; to hold in 
subjection all other creatures, and restricted in 
his possessions and enjoyments by one object 
alone. Thus was he made a moral agent ; and 
his obedience was required in a matter belong- 
ing to the purely organic senses. " But of the 
tree of the knowledge of good and evil, thou 
shalt not eat, for in the day thou eatest thereof, 
thou shalt surely die." We see from this pas- 
sage, that man's trial and its penalty depended 
on the connection of the immaterial soul with 



28 IMMATERIALITY OF MIND. 

the material body. Nor can this be a matter of 
complaint, seeing as we do, the immense supe- 
riority of the intellectual and mor£l powers over 
the bodily sensations. Should we even feel in- 
clined to question the will of our Creator in this 
respect, we are silenced with the reproof — "Nay, 
but who art thou, oh man, that repliest against 
God ? Shall the thing formed say to him that 
formed it, why hast thou made me thus ?" 

A few reasons for the expediency and seem- 
ing necessity of a union between mind and mat- 
ter, will here be set down, as taken from a mod- 
ern author of some celebrity: — A finite mind 
must, as we are inclined to think, become sub- 
ject to some actual limitations, and must un- 
dergo some specific relations, before its faculties 
can come into play, or be productive of effects. 
The union with matter, or the coming into a cor- 
poreal state, may be in fact, not a degradation 
to mind, but the very means of quickening its 
birth into the world of knowledge and action. 
The first consequence of its birth is, the acquire- 
ment of locality in the extended universe. Sec- 
ondly, a relationship not at all less important 
than the preceding, is dependent on the union 
of mind with matter, its relationship to time. 
Nor is it easy to conceive of a social economy 
and system of government in a world where all 
are not held to one and the same rate of intel- 



IMMATERIALITY OF MIND. 29 

lectual movement through their contemporary 
period. Embodied, the mind, by a progress of 
natural education, becomes familiar with a cer- 
tain set or circle of the properties of the mate- 
rial world ; and then, as in a foreign school, brings 
its otherwise latent faculties into exercise." 

Again, " thus it is to its corporeal connection 
with the external world, that must be attributed 
the mind's liability to various mixed emotions, 
as well pleasurable as painful, of the class called 
imaginative. The imaginative sentiments might 
perhaps, at first view, be regarded as being of 
a temporary use only, inasmuch as they consti- 
tute a reconciling medium between the animal 
and intellectual principles. But in considering 
them further, it appears, that they go beyond 
this lower office, and in fact mingle themselves 
with the highest and purest of our moral feel- 
ings. The imaginative sentiments, may thus 
serve at once to facilitate a nearer approach to 
the ineffable glory."* 

The state of existence in which mind and 
matter, or to speak more plainly, body and soul 
are united, is called a state of probation, or trial. 
This earth, so fitted for the enjoyment of our 
sensual nature, is not the abiding place of the 
immaterial part. Daily experience teaches us, 
that death will soon dissolve the connexion, 
* Physical Theory of another life. 



30 IMMATERIALITY OP MIND. 

however pleasant, between the body and the soul. 
The soul, often unwilling, must give up its part- 
ner, so long cherished, so incessantly cared for, 
to return to the dust whence it was taken ; while 
the noble companion of its earthly career, bursting 
like a winged insect from its crysalis state, goes, as 
the inspired volume tells us, "to God who gave it." 
Experience also shows us, that the enjoyments 
of the body are much enhanced by the cultiva- 
tion and rectitude of the mind. The body even 
becomes disordered and sinks prematurely to 
the tomb, unless held in subjection and carefully 
used, by its master, the soul. Man rises to re- 
spectability, or sinks to degradation, as he im- 
proves or wastes his intellectual powers. He 
is punished or rewarded, according to his moral 
conduct. The consciousness that the soul is 
the better part, he carries within himself. Titus, 
one of the best of the Roman Emperors, ex- 
claimed in regret, upon the review of a day spent 
without the performance of a good action, " I 
have lost a day." And why ? Something 
within, declared to the soul of the philosopher, 
that he was born to a nobler purpose, than to 
waste himself upon the gratifications of sense. 
This period of our existence, is plainly intended 
as a preparatory state, similar to the period of 
childhood and youth, in which the mind and body 
are educated or trained for the high duties of life 



IMMORTALITY OP THE SOUL. 31 

From these considerations, I invite you, young 
ladies, to prize the period of life, or the union 
between your material and immaterial natures, 
by turning it to the account intended by the All- 
Wise and most Gracious Creator. Let the body 
be carefully preserved by means of the reason, 
bestowed, as a precious and distinguishing gift, 
upon the human soul. Enjoy with moderation, 
the good things of earth adapted to the senses, 
always remembering, that they are but subor- 
dinate enjoyments, and must not impede the 
progress of your education for another and higher 
state of existence. " Truly the light is sweet, 
and a pleasant thing it is for the eyes to behold 
the sun," but " remember the days of darkness," 
and while you "walk in the way of your heart," 
that is, follow the inclinations of your minds, 
and "in the sight of your eyes," delighting your- 
selves in the pleasures of the senses, " know- 
that for all these things, God will bring you into 
judgment." 



CHAPTER IV. 



IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 



The Immortality of the Soul is a point that the 
believer in revelation will at once be ready to 
admit. The assurance so abundantly given of 



32 IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 

it in the sacred Scriptures, is proof sufficient to 
establish this belief in a mind untainted by the 
errors of Materialism. " Our faith and hope rest 
upon the testimony of heaven. We look for 
another life, not as theorists, but as believers." 

Upon the "testimony of heaven," we are assu- 
red, that this " mortal shall put on immortality," 
and that " death shall be swallowed up in vic- 
tory." Death will overcome that part which 
was taken from the dust, but the immortal soul, 
released by his stroke from the mortal prison- 
house, shall defeat in turn the mighty enemy. 
Hence the triumphant exclamation of the inspi- 
red Apostle, " Oh death, where is thy sting ? 
Oh grave, where is thy victory ?" 

And where is the difficulty in this belief? Can 
not the same Almighty Being that breathed an 
immortal spirit in a form of dust, continue to 
sustain that spirit without its earthly partner ? 
Can He not provide it another clothing, another 
house, a spiritual body . p With God all things 
are possible. And are not such dealings accord- 
ing to the course of his natural providence ? We 
see in Nature a perpetual renovation that marks 
the preserving goodness, as strikingly as Creation 
displays the Almighty power and wisdom of the 
great Creator. Water changed into vapor, de- 
scends again from the clouds in water, to refresh 
the ground. The sun in his progress towards 



IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 



the south, binds up the earth in frost, and veget- 
able matter withers and decays ; but soon his 
returning beam, bringing softening showers, 
causes the herbage to spring from the ground, 
and covers the trees with leaves and flowers. 
Shall this care be taken of the inanimate crea- 
tion, and shall man, the noblest of the things of 
earth, sleep in the dust to wake no more to 
beauty and to life ? The tree, with its leaves 
and flowers, and fruit, springs from the little 
shapeless seed. The winged warbler of the 
air was once an inanimate egg, the beautiful but- 
terfly, a loathsome, crawling caterpillar. Why 
may not the noble frame of man, contain the 
germ of immortality ? 

" Shall man alone, 
Imperial man be sown in barren ground, 
Less privileged than the grain on which he feeds?" 

" Considering him as an animal," says St. 
Pierre, " I know of none so wretched. Exposed 
to insects, wind, rain, cold, heat and laid under 
the necessity in all countries to find himself 
clothing. He knows nothing naturally as other 
animals do. If he wants to cross a river he 
must learn to swim ; he must in his infancy be 
taught to walk and speak, he is obliged to pre- 
pare his food with care and trouble." Suppose 
him a grade above the brute, endowed with 
more intellect and feeling, but intended to finish 



34 IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL, 

his existence here, still is he wretched ; for should 
he have collected every blessing his heart can 
desire, thieves disturb his enjoyment. With- 
out laws, judges, fortresses, regiments, he can- 
not keep possession of the fruits of his labour ; 
and when at last he has it in his power to enjoy 
with tranquility, languor takes hold of his mind, 
he is unsatisfied and must have amusement to 
prevent reflection. The fact is that those who 
have professed the strongest belief in the ter- 
mination of their existence here, have had their 
moments of gloomy despondency , they are " con- 
founded and affrighted at the forlorn solitude in * 
which they are placed by their philosophy," and 
" fancy themselves in the most deplorable con- 
dition imaginable." In the hours of security 
and mirth the thought of death will intrude, and 
dash with bitterness the cup of pleasure. 

" Is heaven then kinder to thy flocks than thee? 

Not so : thy pasture richer, but remote." 

To the believer in revelation, the Divine Word 
sufficiently testifies to the immortality of the souL 
To the unbeliever, reason cannot in any other 
way vindicate the justice of the Governor of the 
Universe, in His dealings with man. He must 
" own the soul immortal or blaspheme." 

But the soul bears within itself proofs of its 
own immortality. What can be a more forcible 
argument than the fact that man through all the 



IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 35 

ages of time has looked up to a superintending 
Power ? Religious worship is the first and most 
prominent institution, noticed in the history of 
every nation upon earth. Among savage hordes 
that scarce show a trace of civil government, we 
find a sense of obligation to some unknown and 
terrible power, prayers and offerings are made 
to good and evil deities, to propitiate their favor 
or to avert their anger. The Mythology, alike 
in its features, of the Egyptians, the Greeks 
and the Romans, acknowledged the immortality 
of the soul, and its judgment in a future state. 
Irreverence to the gods was so abhorrent to the 
Athenians, that, as in the case of Alcibiades, 
we see the vengeance of the nation pursue the 
man, who directed her councils, who led her 
armies, whose person she had idolized. 

A belief in the future existence of the soul, pre- 
vailed among the wisest of the heathen philoso- 
phers. Aristotle regarded the soul as composed 
of two parts, active and passive, the former he 
represents as alone immortal and eternal, the lat- 
ter as destructible. Plato has this remarkable 
expression in his works : "let us choose the 
best human reason, and sitting on it like a raft, 
pass through the dangers of life, unless some 
one can pass us over more easily and safely on 
some stronger vehicle or divine word." Cicero 
derived the most refined pleasure from the con- 



36 IMMORTALITY (TF THE SOtJL, 

templation of a future state of existence. " De* 
lightful hour!" he exclaims, "when I shall jour- 
ney towards that divine assemblage of spirits, 
and depart from this crowd of polluted things." 
Here is Reason unenlightened by Revelation in 
its highest exercise. Man, by one author is 
distinguished, not as being a reasonable, but as 
a religious being.* Another calls this religious 
sentiment " the cravings after a knowledge of 
the relation between man and the invisible things 
that influence his destiny.f What then, is this 
craving of the heart after invisible and eternal 
things, but a proof the soul bears within itself 
of its immortality ? It is the testimony of its 
moral nature. 

Another proof may be found in the nature of 
the soul to make progress towards perfection. 
How vast the difference between the mind of 
an infant and that of a person advanced to ma- 
turity ! But mark the progress. The infant 
has just begun to acquire ideas ; he knows his 
nurse or mother, he smiles at a new or gay ob- 
ject, takes delight in some sounds, is terrified 
at others : he reaches forth his hand to seize 
what he desires, he weeps if the object be re- 
fused. Here we discern the germ of knowledge, 
taste, passion and will. But how small these 
beginnings, like the seed in which is seen the 

* St. Pierre. f BeDJamin Constant. 



IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 37 

rudiments of the sprout and roots of the future 
plant. As the child advances, the regular 
and active developement of ideas is perceived, 
thoughts are distinctly arranged in the mind, 
the memory becomes retentive and the intellec- 
tual powers exercise themselves by degrees in 
the acquisition of knowledge. The imagination 
soon displays itself in his wonder and curiosity; in 
his groundless fears and boundless hopes. Com- 
parison and judgment are next developed in his 
choice of objects. Taste assumes a more defi- 
nite character in his love of finery, and the pas- 
sions of desire and anger operate forcibly upon 
the will. Still the child scarce gives a semblance 
of the future man. Maturity in years, produces 
a change more apparent in mind than in form. 
The youth of twenty is unlike the man of forty, 
very unlike the man of seventy. The fire of 
the imagination is in this last nearly extinguished, 
judgment and reflection have sobered the pas- 
sions, the mind seems ripening for another state 
of existence. 

The immortality of the soul may be seen in 
its insatiable desires, 

11 Like our shadows, 

Our wishes lengthen as our sun declines." 

The attainment of one object gives rise to the 
desire for another, and we pass through life ever 
reaching forward to something more, and ever 



38 IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 

Unsatisfied with the present : and why ? because 
the mind is immortal, and is in its nature unsa- 
lable. This is not so with the brute crea- 
tion. The horse and the ox browse on the 
luxuriant herbage of the field with delight, and 
repose on the shady turf without an ungratified 
wish, because they were created for the earth, 
and the earth contains sufficient for their desires. 
In his intellect also is man insatiable, we might 
say infinite. The more knowledge the mind 
acquires, the greater is its capability for the ac- 
quirement, the more ardent its desires for the 
acquisition ; and a consciousness is ever present 
of the insufficiency of its attainments. A com- 
mon remark is, the more we learn the less we 
seem to know. This is true, because knowl- 
edge in itself is boundless, and still more, be- 
cause the mind expands, and expands endlessly, 
it, also, being boundless in progression. The 
very conceptions of the soul mark its nature. 
Such ideas as unlimited space, endless dura- 
tion, incalculable numbers, would not exist in 
the mind, were it not in its nature progressive, 
and endless in its own duration. Again, the 
perception of relation in things, the ability to 
search into cause and effect, the knowledge of 
Jor myself, the apprehension of an Infinite Being, 
the first cause of every thing, exhibit in the mind 
of man, a higher instance of the Creative Intel- 



IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 3B 

iigence, than any afforded to our observation. 
Other creatures seem made but to perish, man 
to endure forever. They understand by means 
of the senses, man by reason, the attribute of 
Deity. 

The slow progression of the reasoning pow* 
ersi is another proof, that the perfection of intel- 
lect requires another state of existence. Brutes 
in every respect appear adapted to the state in 
which they are found. Their knowledge or 
instinct, never of itself, progresses beyond self- 
preserVation and self-gratification. The first 
nest constructed by the little bird is as soft and 
complete as the last ; the honey made by the 
young bee as sweet as that concocted by the 
old one ; the first house built by the beaver is 
as perfect in its parts, and as commodious as 
any that may follow its construction. No com- 
munity of these or any other brutes, ever made 
improvement in the arts of life. With mankind 
this is not so. 

"Reason progressive, instinct is complete." 

In instinct, man is below the lowest of the 
animal creation. Knowledge springs up like a 
germ in the mind, and advances by progress so 
slow, that it takes ages of experience and in- 
vention before an art or science is brought to 
any degree resembling perfection. The most 
learned and the wisest of men often look upon 



40 IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 

themselves as ignorant ; so, at the close of life, 
Newton regarded himself as a child, who had 
been picking up pebbles on the shore of eternity. 
Another fact intimately connected with the 
preceding, is found in the circumstance that the 
decay of the bodily organs is no hindrance to 
the progressive state of the conceptive and rea- 
soning powers, when kept in proper exercise. 
Many curious instances are related by D'Israeli 
and others, in proof of this position. Colbert, 
the celebrated French Minister, in the reign of 
Louis XIV., returned to his Latin and Law 
studies at the age of sixty. Dryden, the great 
English poet, commenced the translation of the 
whole Iliad in his sixty-eighth year, and wrote 
his most pleasing pieces in his old age. Michael 
Angelo, the great Italian painter preserved his 
creative genius to extreme old age ; a device 
invented by him at that period, represented an 
old man in a go-cart, with an hour-glass upon 
it, with the inscription in Italian : Ancora impara! 
yet I am learning. Necker , the father of Madame 
De Stael, remarks, that the era of threescore and 
ten is an agreeable age for writing ; your mind 
has not lost its vigor, and envy leaves you in 
peace. Another French author says, in a trea- 
tise on the reading and composition of books ; 
" I should but ill return the favor God has granted 
me in the eightieth year of my age, should I 



IMMORTALITY OP THE SOUL. 41 

allow myself to give way to that shameless want 
of occupation, which I have condemned all my 
life." 

Milton, Bacon, Newton, Locke, are all in- 
stances of the progress of mind until the latest 
period of life. Such was the vigor of Newton's 
mind, that in his seventy-third year, he solved 
in one evening, as a matter of amusement, the 
famous problem of Trajectories, the most diffi- 
cult task that Leibnitz in envy could devise. In 
our own sex, Madame De Genlis, Elizabeth 
Carter and Hannah More, are examples of the 
strength of intellect late in life. Mrs. More 
wrote most, if not all her ethical works in her 
declining years ; the Spirit of Prayer, her last 
work, was written at the age of eighty. Most 
of the efforts of her pen, so pleasing, so useful, 
exhibiting such correctness and strength in the 
reasoning powers, were written in the midst of 
great bodily infirmities : another proof, not un- 
frequently given in the lives of the good and the 
learned, that the exercise of the mental powers 
does not depend on the soundness of the bodily 
organs ; whv then should the continued exist- 
ence of the mind depend on the body ? 

Most of the illustrations above cited, were 
taken from the works of two late writers, Dr. 
Johnson and D'Israeli. Dr. Johnson says, 
"Volumes indeed might be filled with the prod- 



42 IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 

igies performed by the mind long after the body 
had declined from the meridian, and even de- 
scended far into the vale of years, proving be- 
yond a doubt that the powers of the mind and 
the body do not run so parallel in their rise, pro- 
gress or decadence, as the materialist asserts."* 

D'Israeli remarks : "The old age of the lite- 
rary character retains its enjoyments, and usually 
its powers, a happiness which accompanies no 
other. The old age of coquetry comes with 
extinct beauty, that of the used idler left with- 
out sensation ; that of a grasping Croesus, who 
envies his heir, or that of the Machiavel who 
has no longer a voice in the cabinet, makes all 
these persons resemble unhappy spirits, who 
cannot find their graves. But for the aged man 
of letters, memory returns to her stores, and 
imagination is still on the wing amid fresh dis- 
coveries and new designs. The others fall like 
dry leaves, but he, like ripe fruit, and is valued 
when no longer on the tree.^t 

Why in the purely animal tribes do we find 
instict complete, while in the human mind rea- 
son is so slow in its developement ? Why does 
it continue its progressive state amid the failure 
of the organic functions ? When the body, en- 

* Economy of Health, by James Johnson, M. D. 
f The Literary Character illustrated by the History of 
Men of Genius : by the author of " Cur. of Literature." 



IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 43 

feebled by disease, all its powers becoming 
more and more inactive, why does the soul then 
grow more vigorous as if in triumph over its 
decaying partner? Memory looks back upon 
the world, and thought is busy in the review of 
past actions, judgment and conscience sit in tri- 
bunal upon them, while imagination glances 
fearfully into futurity. Why does not the mind 
grow imbecile, and sink gradually with the 
body to its last repose ? 

The Materialist cannot answer. The philos- 
opher, Hume, who sported with death, as is 
said, in his last hours, and Hobbes, who, to 
demonstrate the reality of his existence, pub- 
lished in his eighty-seventh year, his version of 
the Odyssey, and in his eighty-eighth, his Iliad, 
could not tell. Death came to cut them off for- 
ever from existence. The soul, which in these 
infidel philosophers had sparkled in lights of its 
own kindling, went out in darkness. These 
towering and arrogant spirits became fools in 
their own reasonings, and consented to lie down 
at last with the brutes ! There are those 

14 Who resist 
The rising thought, who smother in its birth 
The glorious truth; who struggle to be brutes." 

Man is eminently a social being. All the good 
bestowed by riches, pleasure, power, is unsat- 
isfactory, unless it be participated by some kin- 



44 IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 

dred spirit, some beloved object. The mind 
naturally seeks its rest upon some other mind, 
there is an interchange of thought and feeling 
wholly spiritual. To facilitate this social inter- 
course, speech, the prerogative of man, has been 
furnished. 
" Had thought been all, sweet speech had been denied." 

With what wonderful fondness does the Mo- 
ther look upon her infant ; its innocent caresses 
afford her transporting delight, her cares, her 
labors, her watchings, know no bounds. But 
the period of infancy does not end these cares. 
Childhood arid youth call forth fresh anxiety in 
the Mother's bosom, and when manhood glows 
upon the brow of her son, she looks on him 
who drew both life and nourishment from her, 
with an affection more true, more loving, more 
exalted than any feeling that glows within the 
human breast. It is friendship the most refined. 
Oh how unlike is this love to the love of the 
mother brute ! Instinctive affection is fierce, 
and passes away so entirely that the brute knows 
not her own progeny when they leave her fos- 
tering care. 

How can we believe that the social ties which 
become stronger the longer they endure, stronger 
even than the love of life, shall soon be forever 
broken ? that the Christian Mother, wife, sister, 
friend, who follows the beloved one through life 



IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 45 

with ceaseless affection, and at its close, looks 
beyond the precincts of the tomb, with hope to 
a joyful re-union, where sorrows and separation 
are no more, shall love and hope in vain ? Far 
more reasonable is it to believe that these de- 
sires and hopes are from the Author of our na- 
ture, and are an earnest that they in future will 
be gratified. To suppose the contrary, would 
derogate from the goodness of the Supreme Cre- 
ator, so wonderfully displayed through all His 
works. " For what more cruel than to create 
this earnest and universal longing, and not grat- 
ify it?" 

Let us leave to the heathen philosopher the 
uncertainty that said ; " What I am now I know, 
concerning the future I can only believe ; and 
belief can never possess the certainty of knowl- 
edge," and adopt the inspired language of him 
who declared : " I know that my Redeemer liv- 
eth, and though after my skin, worms destroy 
this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God." The 
faith of the most enlightened heathen was but 
opinion, the belief of darkened Reason ; in the 
Christian it is certainty. Neither Plato nor 
Socrates, though full of ardent desires after im- 
mortality, could penetrate beyond the veil that 
hangs between the living and the dead : Reve- 
lation alone can raise the curtain. Life and 
immortality have been brought to light in the 



46 EXALTED NATURE AND 

Gospel. To this Gospel, my dear young friends, 
do I counsel you to cling, and when death shall 
roll its floods around you, the hope that it con- 
tains shall be the Rock of your salvation. 



CHAPTER V. 

EXALTED NATURE AND DESTINATION OF THE SOUL. ■ 

The assurance of immortality brought to us 
in the Gospel of Jesus Christ, comes with trans- 
porting evidence to the mind of the believer in 
this revelation. He can say, " For I know that 
if my earthly house of this tabernacle were dis- 
solved, I have a building of God, an house not 
made with hands eternal in the heavens." The 
desire to put off this mortal part in which he is 
burdened with pains and sorrows, accompanies 
this belief. He even " longs to be unclothed" 
of the flesh that he " may be clothed" with im- 
mortality, and " swallowed up" or " bathed 
in life." He rejoices in the prospect of a hab- 
itation "where God shall wipe away all tears 
from his eyes," where there shall be " no 
night," "neither the light "oft obscured," of the 
sun," for "the Lord God giveth " to the inhab- 
itants of that blessed abode, "light" immediately 
from the Fount of Light ; where " having over- 



DESTINATION OF THE SOUL. 47 

come," they shall inherit all things with the title 
and privilege of Sons of God. 

Every thing within us and around us proves 
our immortal and high destiny. We find upon 
the examination of ourselves that we are reason- 
able, sensitive, intellectual, social and moral 
beings. We know that God has thus made us, 
and as He makes nothing in vain, we cannot 
doubt that some important purpose is attached 
to our existence. Every flower that blooms in 
the meadow, every leaf that moves in the forest, 
every insect that sports in the sunbeams, pro- 
claims the glory of its Creator ; how then can 
it be supposed that we are made for a lower 
purpose ! Our animal nature fearfully and won- 
derfully framed, is fitted by its organic structure 
to enjoy all the lower delights of our own beau- 
tiful earth, and in the proper enjoyment, its full 
purpose seems to be answered, • and thus the 
Creator glorified. 

The powers of the soul, infinitely surpassing 
those of the body, afford strong grounds for the 
belief that the destination of the immaterial part 
is not intended to be this earth. Resembling its 
Creator, the mind is capable of discovering rela- 
tions natural and moral; it examines the present 
by means of its perceptions, by memory it looks 
back upon the past, by imagination into the fu- 
ture. How wondrous in conception ! Fitted 



48 EXALTED NATURE AND 

to understand the nature and the relations of 
surrounding objects, now it penetrates to the 
recesses of the earth, and it brings to the light 
its hidden treasures ; again, the mind stretches 
itself to the vast proportions, not only of our 
globe, but it takes measure of the worlds that 
roll in space around us, and even draws down 
lightning from the very heavens, rendering it 
harmless. 

How unwearied in industry, how godlike in 
invention and skill ! The whole earth is so 
filled with the labours of man, that it seems like 
a new creation. Desolate regions have become 
fertile plains. Where the forest oak towered in 
its loveliness, there arises the fane and the spire, 
and multitudes gather for pleasure, for business 
or for devotion around the lofty edifices. Waters 
have changed their courses and their natural 
uses. Now do they float^through the once soli- 
tary forest the freighted bark, now propel with 
unthought-of speed the loaded carriage. In 
vain has the globe been divided into different 
portions, by a mighty mass of waters ; man has 
become lord of the ocean, and traverses from 
continent to continent more easily than the in- 
habitant of the air. Accelerated motion has 
nearly annihilated space, and more than doubled 
life or time to man. 

In the arts that contribute to the convenience 



DESTINATION OF THE SOUL. 49 

and enjoyments of life, we see further instances 
of the power of mind, almost creative. By 
means of the spindle, the loom and the needle, 
the human frame is arrayed with a covering, the 
tribute gathered from animal tribes, emulating in 
richness and brilliancy, the rainbow tints of the 
tulip, or snowy and delicate as the plumage of 
the dove. Not satisfied with the power of vision 
given to the eye, one instrument must be in- 
vented to help it to reach those orbs that other- 
wise invisibly revolve in the regions of space ; 
another to assist it to penetrate into the minute 
recesses of creation. By means of the telescope, 
the laws which govern the planetary system are 
discovered ; with the assistance of the micros- 
cope, kingdoms of insect tribes upon a rose-leaf 
are detected. Invention disdaining this earth 
as too small a sphere for its remaining labours, 
seeks -a trackless pathway in aerial regions. The 
mind aspires to range in unbounded territories, 
fully indicating eternal existence in a world 
suited to powers so wonderful.* 

Considering this godlike creature in his state 
of infancy here, how poor are our conceptions 
of what he will be when he shall have time 
immeasurable, and opportunity, unimpeded by 
adverse circumstances, to progress towards per- 
fection ! 

* Note B. ~~~ 



50 EXALTED NATURE AND 

The passions of man mark the boundless na- 
ture of the soul. His desires, ever springing 
up, are ever insatiable. He is restlessly eager 
for more enjoyment, more treasure, more of every 
thing that he possesses. No sooner is one object 
obtained, than he forgets it in his desire to pos- 
sess another. The miser hides his hard-earned 
gold, no better to him than pebbles, while his 
unceasing toil is for more. One victory obtained, 
the conqueror leaving all behind, presses on to 
new fields of action and of glory. Pyrrhus, in 
anticipating the conquest of Italy, thought not 
of rest until Sicily and Carthage, Africa and 
Macedonia, should be added to his victories ; 
death found him, before ambition would suffer 
him to rest. The earth itself sufficed not to fill 
the desires of Alexander the Great. His de- 
spairing ambition, unable to reach the height of 
Olympian Jupiter, cast down the mighty con- 
queror to grovel with the brute. 

These aspirings of the soul, and its restless 
dissatisfaction, show it to be destined for a sphere 
of action more enlarged, for actions more ele- 
vated, than any that human affairs can furnish. 
And in direct proof of this, it might be urged 
that no desire of the soul is ever satisfied, unless 
it has the great Creator for its object. It is filled 
and quiet only in contemplation of unbounded 
existence and pleasures forever more. Here it 



DESTINATION OP THE SOUL. 51 

is, that Reason, which distinguishes man from 
all animated existence, is completely satisfied. 
Reason in its continual search for truth, can rest 
in nothing short of Truth Eternal. 

That happiness was one purpose to be an- 
swered in the formation of man, is very appa- 
rent, from his constitution, both of body and 
mind, as well as from the adaptation of exter- 
nal objects to his constitution. 

The animal senses furnish him, in their mod- 
erate gratification, continual enjoyment. The 
lowest, those of feeling, taste and smell, find 
in nature a multitude of objects affording agree- 
able sensations. The smoothness, softness and 
fineness of many bodies, the delicious taste of 
fruits and vegetables, the fragrance of flowers 
are among the lowest pleasures of sensitive be- 
ings ; but so eqxuisite are they in their kind that 
many an immortal mind rests satisfied in the 
enjoyment. The senses of sight and hearing 
are connected with the emotions of taste. The 
whole visible creation is filled with beauty, and 
the human eye is formed to take it in, so con- 
necting it with the mind, as to furnish a source 
of wonderful delight. 

The variety of objects with which the earth 
abounds, and their qualities, give continual ex- 
ercise to the enquiring intellect ; furnishing such 
rich sources of knowledge and scope for inven- 



52 EXALTED NATURE AND 

tion, as to afford perpetual enjoyment to the 
mental faculties. But in man's social nature 
are his qualifications for happiness more appa- 
rent. How bountiful is the provision made for 
the ' ' feast of reason and the flow of soul" ! What 
a multitude of delightful ties bind together the 
vast family of man ! What fond affections cir- 
culate through all, the social life, uniting heart 
to heart ! " God is love," and by this bond has 
He connected the whole rational creation. Not 
only does this love shine forth in the abundant 
sources of happiness provided for man in this 
life, but we are assured in the Sacred .Scrip- 
tures, that " God so loved the world that He 
gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever be- 
lieveth in Him should have eternal life." What 
mind can conceive the bliss of those, who, capa- 
ble of such enjoyment here, where they are im- 
perfect in themselves, and where imperfection 
is stamped on all around them, shall find them- 
selves transported to a place, expressly prepared 
for the perfection of their natures. How will 
the beauties of earth fade away in the glories of 
Heaven ! 

In connection with this branch of our subject, 
another point, and one of great importance, re- 
mains to be considered. That our nature is 
susceptible of high enjojnnents, has been proved ; 
that it is capable of great misery, we must also 



DESTINATION OF THE SOUL. 53 

acknowledge. The pleasures of life are bal- 
anced by its pains. The senses that afford such 
a rich variety of delights, are also the occasion 
of exquisite torment. Wholesome and pleasant 
food is agreeable to the palate ; but nauseous 
and bitter drugs are disagreeable. The sensa- 
tions of touch or feeling are pleasant ; but how 
do these pleasures compare with the tortures of 
the rack, or the distress of a broken bone ? If 
beauty in objects create in us emotions of 
pleasure, so does deformity give pain. If the 
strains of harmony give transport to the musical 
ear, the jarring of discords to it is intolerable. 

Labour, so essential to enjoyment, whether 
bodily or mental, is attended by weariness or 
fatigue ; frequently by pain and ill health, that 
much diminish the satisfaction and hinder the 
advancement of knowledge. The affections of 
the soul, such abounding springs of joy, often 
flow out in streams of bitter sorrow. 

These facts, and others of like nature, prove, 
that the soul, in its connection with the body, is 
capable of misery, as well as of happiness. But 
not in this relation alone does it endure pain, in 
its independent, spiritual state, do we find its 
severest sufferings. Not to speak of the num- 
berless and nameless woes endured by wounded 
feeling, it is sufficient to remark the pangs that 
guilt, ever so much hidden from the observing 



54 EXALTED NATURE AND 

eye of our fellows, will bring upon the soul. So 
insufferable, sometimes, is this torment, that the 
mortal part sinks beneath the dreadful anguish, 
while the spirit, in utter despair of relief, seeks, 
if this may be, to find annihilation in death ; or 
rather, it recoils in fearful agony, from the ap- 
proach of the stroke that will launch it into an- 
other state of existence. 

If the happiness enjoyed by the mind here, 
argues its capability of enjoying happiness here- 
after, the same argument will hold good of its 
capability of enduring misery hereafter. As it 
may continue to enjoy, so it may continue to 
suffer ; for all the states of the soul are onward 
and progressive. Further, should the body and 
soul after their separation, ever be, as we are 
assured in Scripture, re-unitecl, we can easily 
conceive, and are now prepared to believe, that 
this union will wonderfully increase the happi- 
ness or misery of a future state. Again, the 
moral power or perception of the soul, by which 
its own actions are scrutinized, by which appro- 
bation of a right action, disapprobation of a 
wrong one, is immediately expressed ; this ex- 
pression, carrying with it punishment in one 
case, reward in the other, shows a judgment 
begun in this state of existence, and argues, a 
judgment to be expected in the state to which 
it hastens. Of this fact, we are also assured in 



DESTINATION OF THE SOUL. 55 

that Holy Word upon which we found our belief 
of all that relates to ourselves, as moral and 
accountable creatures. 

The soul, " a dim miniature" of its Creator, 
" a beam etherial, though sullied and dishon- 
oured, still divine ;" doubtless, had its existence, 
for no other purpose than to give another exhi- 
bition of the glory of Him, who has made all 
things for Himself. Standing as we do in relation 
to innumerable creatures above and below us, 

"Distinguish'd link in being's eDdless chain, 
Midway from nothing to the Deity," 

well may we tremble at ourselves. " Who can 
tell, how fearful may be the judgment, passed 
upon a noble nature, debased to low and vicious 
purposes ; upon intellect, high and God-like, 
wasted in indolence, or squandered upon trifles. 
My young friends, let this subject teach you 
wisdom. The reason that, elevates you above 
brutes, bringing you near to angelic natures, 
should teach you so to live, that when the sen- 
sitive, mortal part, returns to the dust whence it 
springs, the intellectual, immortal spirit may 
rise to life eternal. 



PART II. 
CHAPTER L 

MIND INDIVISIBLE AND CAPABLE OF ACTION. 

We have, my dear young friends, arrived at 
the conclusion that the soul exists ; that it is in- 
dependent of the body, immortal, and destined 
to a state far more exalted than the one it now 
occupies, with the prospect that it must shortly 
leave its present habitation. Our next enquiry 
is momentous. Can we so understand the na- 
ture and operations of mind, that such knowl- 
edge may conduce to our happiness here and 
hereafter ? 

On every side we are surrounded by material 
objects, and we find ourselves so drawn to them, 
that the conviction comes forcibly to us, we are, 
that is, the mind is, closely allied to things ex- 
ternal. The azure sky and the green earth, the 
song of birds and the fragrance of flowers, fill 
us with delight. A curious shell, an unknown 
animal, attract our observation and draw forth 
enquiries. Objects when removed from our 
sight recur again to our minds, they exist within 



58 MIND INDIVISIBLE 

us, and are recalled at pleasure, or by associa- 
ting circumstances. The mind acts upon out- 
ward objects ; it perceives their relations, it 
combines, compares, analyzes, and classes them ; 
and selects or chooses among them, often with 
strong desire. 

Not only upon material objects does the mind 
act, but upon immaterial ; it retires within itself 
and views its own operations, and mind unites 
itself with mind, by cognizance, by sympathy, 
by feeling, lasting as life itself, and stronger 
than the love of life. But further ; as it perceives 
beauty and deformity in material objects, so does 
the intellect perceive beauty and deformity in 
objects that are immaterial. Actions bring out 
in legible characters mental qualities, and thus 
do we appreciate each other ; we perceive with 
pleasure the colours and fragrance of a rose ; in 
a manner, different indeed, but not less strongly, 
do we find satisfaction from the contemplation 
of benevolent actions in an individual. 
, The mind also perceives cause and effect in 
operations : it feels assured that the smallest 
piece of machinery, a watch for instance, must 
have been constructed and put in motion by 
some forming hand ; also, if by the cause of 
rain and sunshine, the simple herb springs up 
from the ground, it at once acknowledges that 
the rain and the sunshine are the effects of some 



AND CAPABLE OF ACTION. 59 

operating cause ; and it ascends from cause to 
cause with the enquiry, whence came the glo- 
rious luminary enlightening this lower world 
with its beams, drawing from the bosom of the 
ocean which surrounds the globe, the vapours 
that again descend upon it in dews and rain, to 
vivify its surface . ? The answer is heard within ; 
from some Cause creating all. The mind then 
turning its gaze upon itself, still more plainly 
discovers that its own operations, so wonderful, 
so complicated, and yet so simple, must be the 
effect of an Intelligence, immeasurably superior 
to itself, and it strongly feels that upon this First 
Great Cause, it exists, depends, and through 
His permission operates, though- bearing evi- 
dence in itself of the freedom and activity of 
its own operations. Mounting from " earth to 
heaven," it " bodies forth things unknown," it 
chooses and refuses, desires, loves and hates ; 
even controuls in a measure the poor body to 
which it is attached, yet is there within, a voice, 
that speaks its subjection — its accountability to 
a higher Power. 

Immaterial in its existence, and not discov- 
erable in the same manner as the objects of sight 
or touch by the senses, mind can only be known 
through its own operations. The power which we 
call caloric, electricity, magnetism, is not dis- 
covered until some circumstance calls its forth. 



60 MIND INDIVISIBLE 

The condensed rays of the sun will cause wood 
to ignite, and flame is produced, showing that 
the wood contained within itself some quality, 
not discoverable, until heat was applied ; so fric- 
tion will bring forth sparks from silk or woollen 
garments, and a piece of iron may be made 
to draw towards it needles and other objects. 
This operating power in bodies is very different 
from the properties of form, colour and density, 
and can be discoverable only in its effects ; that 
is, in flame, in sparks of light, in streams of 
electrical fluid, in attraction or repulsion. So 
the mind, inhabiting a corporeal frame, is known 
only by the operations, which, through it, ' the 
body is made to perform. 

Bodies have parts, and these parts may be 
divided and subdivided to infinitude, but the 
soul or mind has no parts, it knows, feels, wills 
and reasons ; and these faculties are all con- 
cerned in its operations, perhaps constitute all 
that we can at present know of the soul. This 
we may call its nature, that is, its inherent prop- 
erties, independent of circumstance or habit. It 
is the nature of plants to grow, of animals to 
move, of the sun to emit light ; in like manner 
is it the nature of the mind to perceive, to re- 
member, to reason, to desire and to act. 

Connected in some mysterious way with the 
body, the mind through it performs its own ope- 



AND CAPABLE OF ACTION. 61 

rations, and by its means becomes acquainted 
with all material things. How far the percep- 
tions of the senses may be necessary to cause 
action in the mind, cannot perhaps be determined, 
as we have not upon record any case where they 
have been wholly wanting to an individual ; but, 
that they are necessary to introduce it to a 
certain portion of knowledge, to motion and to 
action; is very evident. Whether they are 
necessary for the continuance of this knowl- 
edge, is another consideration. . When the 
powers of outward perception fail, the mind 
continues its action ; feeling, memory and rea- 
son are in powerful operation as long as life 
continues in the vital organs, and how are we 
sure that they need these organs ? 

We know not what part of the body the 
soul inhabits, or how far the senses are neces- 
sary to its operations. These are among the 
mysteries of nature that probably will never be 
unfolded ; our wisdom appears in not permit- 
ting ourselves to be troubled by such conceal- 
ments, for of this we may rest assured, that 
there are many things in the counsels of the 
Almighty from which we are excluded, but the 
knowledge necessary to the happiness of His 
creatures here and hereafter, will the merciful 
Father of Spirits fully reveal. 

That the mind has knowledge independent of 



62 MIND INDIVISIBLE 

the senses is a matter of experience, though a 
point that has been disputed by writers on this 
branch of science. Cousin, in his Introduction 
to the History of Philosophy says, " It has been 
proved that the phenomena of sense furnish us 
only with ideas of a fortuitous conjunction, or 
accidental connection : we see, for instance, a 
ball which is in motion immediately after being 
struck by another ball, a motion succeeds this, I. 
and then another motion. The relation of cause 
and effect is there, but it is not the senses which 
discover its presence ; it is the. mind. The re- 
lation of equality cannot be perceived by the \ 
senses and the imagination, because it is invis- 
ible, intangible. It is the mind which either 
knows or is ignorant of this relation, because it 
is the mind which is endowed with the faculty 
of perceiving numbers.* 

Dugald Stewart imagines the case of a per- 
son possessed of but two senses, hearing and 
smelling. Supposing that without having a 
communication with other beings, these senses 
brought objects to his mind ; he would acquire 
the knowledge of two facts independent of the 
objects, that of the existence of the sensation, 
and that of his own existence as a sentient be- 
ing. After this he could remember the sensa- 
tion and could conceive that he feels it again ; 



* Note C. 



AND CAPABLE OF ACTION. 63 

he might desire the return, if agreeable, and 
fear it if disagreeable. He might also compare 
the different sensations, or if they came together, 
attend to one and dismiss the other. In this 
manner would the mind of this two-sense being 
go through all the operations belonging to mind, 
without the perceptions brought by the other 
senses, and arrive at the conclusion of his own 
intelligent existence. He would also acquire 
the ideas of number by the recurrence of the 
sensations, of time and duration by the interval 
between them, of cause and effect ; the objects 
being the cause, the sensations the effect ; and 
of his own identity, or the continuance of his 
being. 

Did all our knowledge depend upon our senses, 
we could know nothing of ourselves ; for which 
sense reveals to us what passes within our own 
minds ? The senses of sight and of hearing 
show to us by means of the external signs of 
countenance and of speech what passes in the 
minds of others, but does the eye or the ear 
discover to any one his own thoughts or feelings ? 
is there not an internal sense that shows him to 
himself ? Nor could we by means of any of the 
senses arrive at the conception of that Infinite 
Being, we call God. For who hath at any time 
seen the Invisible One ? Reason may conceive 
His existence, and indeed knows not how to 



64 MIND INDIVISIBLE 

conceive of the existence of man without Him, 
the great Cause, the Father of Spirits ; but reason 
is not the eye, the ear, nor any other sensible or- 
gan. Still more, to have faith in revelation, some 
other operation of mind is necessary, beside the 
operations produced by the senses alone.* Rea- 
son proclaims its own independence of matter, 
and faith claims for the soul, a life higher than the 
animal, breathed by God himself, when " man 
became a living soul." 

Two remarkable cases of activity in the men- 
tal powers, unassisted by the senses of sight 
and hearing, present themselves, as extracted 
from the Reports of the Hartford Asylum of 
the deaf and dumb, and from the Institution 
of the Blind. Julia Brace, who is now thirty 
years of age, lost her sight and hearing at the 
age of four and a half years, and had been in 
the Asylum for the last twelve years when the 
report was made. She performs with great 
accuracy many of the common labours of life, 
sews with neatness, knits, and shapes the stock- 
ing very exactly. She irons slowly but well, 
and her discriminating power is so great, that 
she is able to select the articles of clothing be- 
longing to any member of the Institution ; this 



* The reader is referred to Cousin's Elements of Psych- 
ology. Critical examination of Locke on Human Under- 
standing : Chap. 6. 



AND CAPABLE OF ACTION. 65 

she does mostly by smell, when the linen is 
clean, and is rarely mistaken in any article, 
never in her own clothins:. 

Several deaths have occurred in the Asylum 
since her admittance ; from the first she undoubt- 
edly obtained her ideas, whatever they were, of 
so great a change as death. She satisfied her- 
self that the body was incapable of motion and 
had ceased to breathe, and seemed filled with 
horror. When such cases have occurred since, 
she makes signs for death and expresses sorrow. 
On the Sabbath, Julia dresses herself in her 
best clothing, and taking her rocking-chair, be- 
gins the observance of the day by abstaining 
from all her customary employments. In this 
she never fails. When permitted to visit home 
and spend some days with her mother, she can- 
not be prevailed on to remain longer than Sat- 
urday afternoon. What her reason is, cannot 
be ascertained, unless it be to enjoy the quiet 
and rest of her rocking-chair and chamber, 
where she is sure of not being disturbed. An 
effort has been made to instruct her in the knowl- 
edge of God, but it does not appear to have 
been successful. 

The case of Laura Bridgman is still more 
interesting. This little girl is eight years of 
age, and had been an inmate in the Institution 
for the Blind about four months when the report 



• 



66 MIND INDIVISIBLE 

was made. She has been from her infancy? 
blind, deaf and dumb, and deprived almost en- 
tirely of the sense of smell. With all this, she 
is as active, as Ml of frolic and play as other 
children. She knows every inmate of the house 
by touch, and is remarkably affectionate. She 
can sew, knit and braid, as expertly as any of 
the children ; always behaves with propriety, 
has a sense of property, a love of approbation, 
a desire to appear neatly dressed, and to have 
others notice it. She will not retain any thing 
belonging to another, nor eat an apple, or piece 
of cake that is not given her. She has also a 
pleasure in playfully teasing and puzzling others. 
The different states of her mind are clearly 
marked on her countenance, which shows hope 
and fear, pleasure and pain, self-approbation 
and regret ; and which, when she is trying to 
study out any thing, assumes an expression of 
intense attention and thought. 

The Report proceeds to state the manner in 
which Laura is taught to read, and in this her 
aptness is wonderful. Her manner with her 
teacher is thus described ;" " Her teacher gives 
her a new subject, for instance a pencil, first 
lets her examine it and get an idea of its use, 
then teaches her to spell it, by making her signs 
of the manual alphabet, with her own fingers. 
The child grasps her hand and feels her fingers, 



AND CAPABLE OF ACTION. 67 

as the different letters are formed, her head 
inclines on one side as if intensely listening, 
her lips apart, she seems scarcely to breathe ; 
and her countenance at first anxious, gradually 
changes to a smile as she comprehends the les- 
son. She then holds up her little fingers and 
spells the word in the manual alphabet, next 
takes her types and arranges the letters, and 
then to make sure that she is right, she takes the 
whole of the types composing the word, and 
places them in contact with the pencil, or what- 
ever the object may be." 

Some very interesting remarks may be drawn 
from the accounts of these two females. Julia 
Brace not only learned to work, but all her labour 
shewed that care and neatness which is the re- 
sult of pure mental operation, attention. The 
senses had little to do in it. For this she was 
remarkable, as we learn from the circumstance 
of her being able to distinguish, by smell alone, 
between every article of apparel in the wash- 
room, and from the notice she takes of the days 
of the week that brought about the Sabbath sea- 
son of rest. This she undoubtedly enjoyed, as 
nothing could turn her from it, not even the priv- 
ilege of remaining with her mother. 

But there is a striking difference between the 
case of Julia Brace and that of Laura Bridg- 
man. This child with one sense less than Julia, 



68 MIND INDIVISIBLE 

is wonderfully more intellectual. Julia, now 
thirty, has been in the Asylum twelve years, 
and has never, with all the instruction bestowed 
upon her, " attained a knowledge of the signs 
significant of objects," while Laura, in four 
months, has already learned, not only all the 
letters of the alphabet by the sense of feeling, 
but knows how to put them together, so as to 
form the names of common objects, and that 
under standingly. In this last case, we see not 
only the exercise of attention, but a conception 
that appears to be wanting in the other, marking 
an original difference in mind. Julia shews 
much love of self, and a petulance not noticed 
in the little girl. Of this, an anecdote was rela- 
ted, that fell under the observation of a lady 
who visited the Asylum. Two worked capes 
were given, one to Julia, another to one of her 
companions. Julia took in her hand the cape 
belonging to the other, and after comparing the 
two, perceived that hers had less work upon it 
than the other cape, whereupon she threw it 
down and stamped on it. Laura's mental per- 
ceptions seem much more delicate, and more 
acute, as noticed in her sense of propriety, her 
desire of approbation, and her playful humour ; 
not even would her appetite tempt her to take 
that which she knew did not belong to her. The 
intense application of her mind, when any thing 



AND CAPABLE OF ACTION. 69 ^ 

is to be learned, is seen in her listening attitude, 
her anxious look, and her intelligent smile, when 
she understands what is explained to her. In 
Julia Brace, this intellectual perception is not 
so noticeable, since it has been thought impos- 
sible to draw her attention to reasonings on 
moral or spiritual subjects. Nor is this original 
difference of mind in persons who enjoy the full 
exercise of all the senses, a circumstance un- 
known, especially to those who have devoted 
themselves to the education of youth. Some, 
and those too, expert and ingenious at manual 
labour, are slow in the exercise of the mental 
powers and unwilling to make the effort, and 
multitudes who are neither blind, deaf or dumb, 
are utterly unwilling to have their attention 
drawn to moral or spiritual subjects. 

Laura Bridgman with the use of but two 
senses, and those among the lowest order be- 
longing to our nature, shews more quickness in 
the intellectual perception, and greater mental 
power, than is commonly found among children, 
who have the full use of all their senses. Nor 
is this the only instance of such wonderful ac- 
tivity and energy, in mental operations, without 
the co-operation of the senses of sight and hearing, 
which more than any others, furnish the mind 
with ideas. Upham mentions the interesting 
case of a boy in Scotland, James Mitchel, who 



70 MIND INDIVISIBLE 

was blind and deaf, consequently dumb, from 
his birth. His desire after knowledge was great 
and ardent, and many curious instances are 
given, of his perseverance, by the sense of 
touch, in the examination of the objects within 
his reach. This desire was so great that he 
became acquainted with the use of all common 
things. He knew strangers by the smell, and 
distinguished one visitor from another, by the 
touch. He made known his wants and inten- 
tions by signs. The following is an instance of 
the strength of his social feelings. A pair of 
shoes being brought to him, were found too 
small, upon which his mother put them away 
in a closet, that she kept locked. James one 
day procured the key of this closet, opened the 
door, took out the shoes and put them upon a 
boy who waited on him, but smaller than him- 
self, whom thev fitted. He never carried anv 
thing from houses where he visited, though 
allowed to handle whatever he wished. When 
he had done wrong, and was made sensible of 
it by gentle means, he shewed sorrow, but if 
harshly treated, he was irritated. At the death 
of his father, he exhibited his grief in a very 
affecting manner ; and three months after his 
death, a clergyman being in the house, on a 
Sunday evening, he pointed to his father's Bible 
and then made a sign that the family should kneel. 



AND CAPABLE OF ACTION. 71 

In this account, long and extraordinary as it 
is, we are told by the author, that the knowledge 
of this youth, was limited almost wholly to 
matter, and that, as it was very imperfectly 
represented by the three senses. How won- 
derfully acute then, must be the perceptions of 
the soul, that could lead this poor boy to " ex- 
plore the ground, inch by inch, upon his hands 
and knees, for miles in search of objects on 
which to exercise thought ; examining, not only 
men, but animals, and every object within his 
reach ; standing by the side of shoemakers, tai- 
lors, and bricklayers, intently curious to know 
the mode and result of their labours." 

We are expressly told by Upham in the course 
of the above relation, that deaf and dumb 
persons, generally have no idea of God, till it 
is taught them, and it is not probable, with all 
that is said of Mitchell, that he had any " notion 
of a God and of accountability- to Him." Oh 
who can enter into the inaccessible mind, inac- 
cessible, because speech is denied it, and trace 
out the hidden springs of action and of feeling? 
What prompted this youth to benevolent and to 
honourable actions ? What taught him to weep 
over his father's grave, to refuse to lie upon the 
bed on which his parent expired, and to shew 
signs of fear when sick himself? In his inquis- 
itive and reasoning mind, are we sure there ex- 



72 MIND INDIVISIBLE 

isted no enquiries like these? — What am I in 
creation ? These hands, these feet are not the 
parts that desire to know. There are persons 
that I love, — what loves them ? my hands ? no, 
but something within, that I cannot touch. Who 
is she, upon whose bosom my head often reposes, 
and that other gentle one, who cares for me so 
tenderly ? What relation is there that causes 
me to love them, and they to love me, more 
than the other beings whom I feel about me ? 
Wiry does not my mother's horse make such 
garments as clothe my body, or shoes for my 
feet f There is some difference between him 
and others, — somebody made every thing I use, 
or touch ; who made me ? I do not remember 
to have been made. Why did they put my 
father under the ground ? He was cold and 
motionless, he answered me not when I em- 
braced him. The part that moved is gone. 
What is that part ? and shall that part of me go 
also ? Where will it go ? Who made it ? My 
father reads from a book he regards more than 
any other, and then all bend clown in reverence 
before some Being I cannot touch. Who is this 
Being, greater than my father ? I reverence 
my father ; is this Being the Father of us all ? 
Did He make us ! I obey my father, must we 
all obey Him ? 

Words are here given to the reasonings of the 



AND CAPABLE OF ACTION. 73 

speechless intellect, but should sound be restored 
to the mind, and with it speech, how long would 
it be before language could be made to express 
to others the outlines of the long pent-up thought, 
much less its shades and colourings ! We can- 
not certainly say, that He who created the soul 
in His own image, and as a circumstance of its 
being, united it with the body, has made it so 
entirely dependent upon the body, that without 
it, the soul could not come at the knowledge of 
its own existence, or the existence of its Crea- 
tor. We know that a time will come when it 
shall exist without the body, and shall see His 
face, without need of the light of the sun ; for 
He who is Light itself, shall give them light. 

The following lines on Laura Bridgman, beau- 
tifully express what may be safely conjectured 
on this very interesting part of our subject : 

Say, lurks there not some beam from heaven 

Amid the bosom's night, 

Some echo from a better land 

To make thy smile so bright ? 

There's many a lamp in Greenland's cell 

Deep 'neath a world of snow, 

That cheers the lonely household group, 

Though none beside may know : 

And doth not God, our Father's hand, 

Light in thy cloister dim, 

A hidden and peculiar lamp, 

To guide thy steps to Him? 

Mrs. Sigournejt. 



74 THE DEVELOPEMENT OF MIND 

CHAPTER II. 

THE DEVELOPEMENT OF MIND AND ITS CAPABILITY 
OF KNOWING. 

In presenting this subject to you, it is my de- 
sign, not in strictness to follow any one theory, 
as we find it laid down in the works of philoso- 
phers, but simply to search for the operations of 
the soul as we perceive them exhibited in the 
history of mankind, and more especially as we 
find them within ourselves. Let us seek to un- 
derstand what we can of the origin of thought, 
while we learn to combine, to arrange and to 
guard it properly. L et us enquire into the springs 
of action within us, and seek to know how these 
may be so controlled and directed, that all the 
movements of the soul may harmonize with the 
will of Him, in whom all its " springs" should be. 

May this investigation of the mental powers, 
assist you, young ladies, in forming a true esti- 
mate of the abilities you possess to direct your 
thoughts to important objects, and so to govern 
your words and actions, as that through Divine 
Grace, your characters maybe formed to "what- 
soever things are true, whatsoever things are 
just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever 
things are lovely." 

Properly to employ the powers or faculties 



AND ITS CAPABILITY OF KNOWING. 75 

with which by nature we are provided, is, or 
should be, our great object ; and to exam- 
ine our own resources, will be the first step in 
our endeavour to use them profitably. In this, 
reason, assisted by experience, and enlightened 
by Revelation, must be our guide. Should you 
desire to become acquainted with the construc- 
tion of a watch, you would take it in pieces, you 
would separately examine how each part is 
made, how one part acts upon another, how the 
movement communicated by a spring, passes 
from wheel to wheel, to the hand, or index which 
points the hour. Thus with the mind. To gain 
a knowledge of ourselves we must examine or 
analyze what passes within us, for in this way 
only, can we come at a correct understanding of 
the science of mind, and thus may rules be es- 
tablished to guide our practice. 

The body is made up of parts, and distinct 
actions belong to every organ. In walking, the 
muscles which move the limbs are the acting 
power ; in writing, those which move the hand 
and arm ; in seeing, the eye alone is employed ; 
in hearing, the ear. But the mind has no parts, 
it is one, indivisible ; having the power or abil- 
ity, to know, to feel, to reason, and to act ; the 
body with which it is connected, being the agent 
by which it exhibits all these operations. The 
infant opens his eyes, and soon the light attracts 



76 THE DEVELOPEMENT OF MIND 

him, a sudden sound startles him ; this is the 
first expression of the intelligence and emotions 
of the mind. Now he seeks the light and smiles 
indicate his pleasure. Objects, motion and 
sounds engage his attention, quiet his restless- 
ness and often soothe him to repose. The mind 
feels, or is moved as soon as it perceives. A 
few months more and the infant knows his 
mother or his nurse ; he distinguishes her from 
others, and remembers the object of his special 
attention. He also knows the persons with 
whom he is constantly conversant, all of whom 
he remembers, and towards these objects are 
his feelings strongly drawn ; he would utter 
cries should he be resigned to the arms of a 
stranger, though the appearance of the stranger 
is very like that of his own friends. These ac- 
tions show in the mind a capability of comparing 
objects, of understanding relations, of retaining 
knowledge, and of feeling a preference. 

As the mind of the child developes itself, he 
seeks variety in his playthings ; they soon tire 
and he turns away in distaste, but a new one, 
will for a while, quiet his loudest cries. Glaring 
colours, noisy sounds, odd figures, attract his 
attention, and motion above all gives him plea- 
sure. The refusal of any object that thus ex- 
cites him, will rouse his anger and draw forth 
passionate cries. Here we discern the germ of 



AND ITS CAPABILITY OF KNOWING. 77 

emotions, desires, passions and will. In a year 
or two the mental powers become more devel- 
oped. When objects are presented to the child 
he compares and decides with preference be- 
tween them, and soon he learns to distinguish 
the things that belong to him, from those which 
do not. He also learns that there are certain 
things which he must not touch ; experience 
teaches him that the flame of a candle will burn 
his fingers, also, that his father will not allow 
him to play with the book he is reading ; but 
that his mother during the absence of the father 
will let him look at it, and the child acts in ac- 
cordance. In the presence of one parent he 
offers not to touch an object which he impera- 
tively demands when alone with her, of the 
other. Here is the exercise of reasoning and 
of will. 

The association of qualities with objects to 
which they do not really belong, is awakened 
in children at an early age by others, sometimes 
to quiet, sometimes to amuse them. The little 
one is noisy or otherwise troublesome, and those 
who have the care of him assure him, that if 
he is not soon quiet, some ugly creature will be 
called to carry him off; frequently an old man 
or a dreadful beast. At other times, the child is 
entertained with the story of a fairy who has 
her palace in the clouds, or with the moving 



78 THE DEVELOPEMENT OF MIND 

account of the burial of Cock Robin. Thus in 
infancy is developed the power of combining 
and forming from realities, ideas and associa- 
tions which are unreal. 

Perceptions of improprieties and wrong we 
find to exist in the minds of young children : 
witness in such, the anger and retaliation shewn 
when offences are offered them, also the shame 
and fear displayed when they themselves have 
offended. Here is moral sense and conscience 
developed. Lastly, the continual enquiry of 
children, who made it ? what did it ? this 
search after cause when effects are discovered, 
amounting often to troublesome curiosity, clearly 
shows that reason has commenced its operation. 

Wherever there is life, there is a principle of 
developement or growth. Thus in plants, from 
the seed commences germination, and the sprout 
in a suitable soil, with genial influences, grows 
up to a tree bearing flowers and fruit. So does 
the body develope itself; for with proper care 
and nourishment, from a helpless nursling, will 
it acquire the size and strength of a man. Thus 
also the mind, from the first faint glimmerings 
of reason, if carefully cultivated, will unfold its 
powers, until it shines with brightness almost 
celestial. 

The plant has in its vegetable life all that is 
necessary to its complete developement, so in 



AND ITS CAPABILITY OF KNOWING. 79 

its animal life has the body, so has the soul in 
its intellectual life. Plants and animals have 
vessels fitted to receive nourishment, they all 
have involuntary or organic action ; animals in 
addition to this, possess the power to perform 
voluntary actions, they eat, drink, or move about 
at will. The soul has involuntary and volun- 
tary action, it has intuition, as well as the power 
to acquire and use knowledge. We perceive 
vegetable life in the growth and fructification of 
the plant. We perceive animal fife in the move- 
ments of the body, intellectual fife in the ope- 
rations of the mind in thought. 

There is a power in the mind to perceive out- 
ward objects in their form, size and colour ; 
likewise to discover in those objects, qualities 
more delicate than the common properties of 
matter, such as sublimity, beauty, fitness, order. 
The mind, or intellect, also discovers relations ; 
body being given, space is immediately found 
in connection, an effect being perceived, the 
cause is sought. The properties that belong to 
character are apprehended by the mind, such 
as propriety, benevolence, truth, falsehood ; also 
right and wrong in actions, such as justice and 
injustice. When this perceptive power of the 
mind is turned in upon itself, it discovers or 
becomes conscious of the operations of thought, 
and discerns the feelings and purposes of the soul. 



80 THE DEVELOPEMENT OF MIND 

This power of perceiving or knowing is to the 
mind what sight is to the eye ; it receives, or 
regards every object, or subject that comes within 
the reach of observation or of thought. It may 
be called the " mind's eye." It is the Intelli- 
gence of the rational soul. 

" Ideas are thought in its natural form."* 
They are the result of the operations of the mind, 
either upon external objects, upon itself, or upon 
necessary truth : they constitute its knowledge. 
The mind acquires knowledge by its powers of 
perceiving and of reasoning ; it preserves knowl- 
edge by its power of retaining : it uses knowl- 
edge by its ability to attend, to compare, to 
analyze, to combine, to reason and to invent. 

The mind cannot be said to have within itself 
innate ideas, but it has intuition ; the power of - 
knowing without the operation of reasoning. 
Thus objects do not exist in the eye itself, nei- 
ther do the images of them exist in the mind ; but 
the eye having the faculty of sight, immediately 
sees any object presented to it. So the mind, 
though not furnished with original or innate ideas 
of its own, yet has it the power of perceiving 
objects brought in contact with any of the senses, 
or truth addressed to the Reason. Light is not 
the eye, it is light, and the eye sees it ; truth is 
not the mind, it is truth, and the mind perceives 
* Cousin. 



AND ITS CAPABILITY OP KNOWING. 81 

it. External objects exist independently of the 
eye ; but they present themselves to the sight, 
and thus become objects of sensation, producing 
ideas of external perception ; so truth exists in- 
dependently of the mind, but it presents itself 
to the intelligence, producing ideas of internal 
perception. Here we have the foundation of 
the principles of common sense and of intuitive 
evidence. 

Bodies appear in form, substance and colour 
alike to all, because they are so ; for wherever 
the senses are not disordered there is no dis- 
pute about them. The qualities of beauty, sub- 
limity, order and simplicity are real qualities, 
and are perceived by the mind, to which they 
in a greater or less degree communicate plea- 
sure. In these instances we have the founda- 
tion of Natural Science and Taste, and we per- 
ceive them to be based upon truth, or what 
approves itself to the common sense of man ; 
for man being a rational creature, must perceive 
truth. The science of mathematics is founded 
on the relation of numbers and magnitude, alike 
perceived by the understanding of the Asiatic, 
the European and the American. The appro- 
bation of truth, justice and benevolence, and the 
disapprobation of falsehood, injustice and cru- 
elty, have prevailed among the learned Greeks, 
and the ignorant Barbarians ; among proud Phi- 



82 THE DEVELOPEMENT OF MIND 

losophers, and humble Christians ; among all 
nations, and in every age, because the moral 
perception is the same in all. 

To this perceptive power, probably may we 
trace in part the diversity we remark in mind. 
Continuing the analogy we have taken up be- 
tween the eye and the mind, it will not be diffi- 
cult to make this plain. The nature of the eye 
is to see, but we know that all have not the 
faculty of sight in equal perfection. Some are 
short-sighted and to examine objects must ap- 
proach near to them ; others see best when at a 
distance. Some have such imperfect vision 
that they cannot distinguish one colour from 
another ; others do not see at all. Sight, when 
imperfect may be so assisted, that with the arti- 
ficial help of glasses a person whose eyes are 
bad, may see objects more distinctly, than one 
who has no natural defect in the organs of sight. 
Another fact is worth notice, it is, that by atten- 
tion and habit the sight is much strengthened 
and improved. A painter will detect the smallest 
defect in a picture, and a sailor will discover in 
a speck, imperceptible to other eyes, the wel- 
come approach to land. 

The nature of the mind is to perceive, but 
we notice a vast difference in the understanding 
and mental operations of mankind. Some per- 
sons are slow in perceiving the qualities or rela- 



AND ITS CAPABILITY OF KNOWING. 83 

tions of objects, still slower in perceiving truth 
abstract or moral ; others have a kind of quick- 
ness, but their impressions are indistinct and 
easily effaced. Some take a limited view of 
things or subjects, and look at them in the detail ; 
others have clear, vivid, and enlarged mental 
perceptions, are able to examine objects and 
subjects in the beauty of their minuteness and 
in the sublimity of their extension. 

To this original difference in mental percep- 
tion may be added the still greater diverse- 
caused by cultivation. This cultivation is in a 
great measure, perhaps altogether, directed by 
the will, the will being influenced by the desires 
or affections of the soul. In childhood the ob- 
jects of sense forcibly arrest the attention. If 
the mother or teacher, who at this period has 
the " moulding of mind" in her power, suffers 
the stream of thought to flow out after the ob- 
jects of pure sensation, if she turn not the cur- 
rent to subjects of reflection, her young charge 
will probably not do it, because the desires are 
strongly drawn to whatever will gratify the ani- 
mal appetites, or please the sensitive imagina- 
tion. Thus is laid the foundation of a selfish 
character, or what is nearly allied to it, the 
sickly musings, or the wild wanderings of an 
imaginative fancy. 

In this examination of mind, as we see it 



84 THE DEVELOPEMENT OF MIND 

develope itself in its first operations, we find 
that feeling or emotion, accompanies its pri- 
mary perceptions ; also that external objects 
awaken its latent powers, and give it the first 
impulse. As we continue the investigation, a 
striking difference in the direction of the mind 
to particular objects, is as apparent, as the dif- 
ference we have already remarked in the men- 
tal perceptions. Some minds are excited or 
moved by a one class of objects, others by a dif- 
ferent class. To explain this, let us look at a 
family of children, brought up together under 
the same parental care, with the same instruction ; 
they are equally perfect in bodily organs, and 
none apparently deficient in mental powers ; 
but how different are they in pursuits and char- 
acter. One child ardently loves pleasure, or 
play, is boisterous and difficult to control ; an- 
other is silent, reflective and obedient ; a third, 
fiery in his temper and aspiring in his pursuits. 
Other varieties may be observed among them : 
one boy will occupy himself in the invention or 
arrangement of some piece of mechanism, an- 
other will annoy his friends with his violin or 
flute, a third will retire to a corner Avith his 
drawing, a fourth will be chasing butterflies or 
collecting pebbles. 

Margaret Duchess, of Newcastle, writes thus 
of herself : " It pleased God to endue me with 



AND ITS CAPABILITY OF KNOWING. 85 

a poetical and philosophical genius from my 
birth, for I did write some books of that kind 
before I was twelve years old, for want of good 
method and order I never did divulge." Boc- 
caccio says; " Before seven years of age, when 
as yet I had met with no stories, was without a 
master and hardly knew my letters, I had a 
natural talent for fiction and produced some 
tales." Descartes, when a boy was marked by 
habits of deep meditation, and the father of 
Nelson, declared that in " whatever station he 
might be placed, he would if possible climb to 
the top of the tree."* 

Thus, we see, that nature, in many cases, 
directs the mind by the emotions to some one 
subject, and a difference is established that marks 
the pursuits of after life. Whatever may be the 
foundation of the difference in mind, it is certain 
that the Creator has as bountifully provided for 
our intellectual as for our physical wants. Few 
persons come into the world deprived of the 
senses, the organs of communication with ma- 
terial things ; and should they, the mind is so 
constituted that a privation of one sense, serves 
but to render mental observation more acute by 
means of the others. Children and even untu- 
tored savages shew themselves capable of the 
right use of intellect ; for all who are not idiots. 

* Curiosities of Literature. 



86 THE DEVELOPEMENT OP MIND 

and even these in a degree, can be made to un- 
derstand, to feel, to remember, to compare and 
to reason ; and seldom is there a human being 
in society so debased as to be incapable of com- 
prehending his social and moral responsibilities. 
Where this debasement takes place in the mind, 
we find, in most cases, the will under the influ- 
ence, either of an indolent or a vicious propensity. 

But the indolent mind may be roused to ex- 
ertion, and stimulated by proper management 
to glorious action ; the sensual -appetites., that 
debase the intellect, may be restrained, and 
habits of self-denial be established. Within 
the mind there is power to overcome, if per- 
severingly used, the lower propensities of ani- 
mal nature, so that though the soul be clogged 
in its alliance with the body, yet is it indued 
with the ability to regulate and bring into sub- 
jection its corporeal partner. 

In the days of infancy, the intelligent mother 
comes to the assistance of her child. Does the 
little one seem slow in his mental progress, giv- 
ing signs of what may be called the indolence 
of stupidity ? She, with untiring assiduity, sets 
before him such objects, and in such variety, as 
cannot fail to interest and awake the slumbering 
intellect ; she presses him onward, and never 
leaves her duty until her child is rescued from 
the benumbing effects of an indolent disposition, 






AND ITS CAPABILITY OF KNOWING. 87 

that, if indulged, would sink the immortal spirit 
to a state bordering upon idiocy. An example 
in living history of this fact, gives proof that 
the strong emotion reigning in a mother's heart 
can thus come to the rescue of a child, giving 
to him upon earth a name and place of respec- 
tability ; who can tell what may be its influence 
in Eternity ? Happy mother, still more happy 
son in having such a mother. 

J. W., was not thus fortunate. Bereft in his 
cradle of her whose strong affection might have 
prompted to vigorous effort, he was in a manner 
abandoned to the indulgence of the lowest pro- 
pensities of an evil nature ; indeed it might be 
said he was incited to their indulgence by those 
who took care of him, finding much trouble 
saved by such a course. At the age of ten, 
when placed under capable instructors, it seemed 
impossible to teach him even to read, though it 
was evident that in natural ability there was no 
radical defect, for his conception and invention 
of mischief, especially in lying, of which he 
boasted, was wonderful. In the matter of ap- 
plying his understanding to any thing correct or 
right, he was utterly averse. His mind from 
infancy was bent upon wickedness, and in the 
opinion of some he was almost an idiot. Thus 
he lived, and thus in youth, of his excesses, did 
he die. 



88 THE DEVELOPEMENT OF MIND 

See that pious, intellectual mother, to whom 
Providence has entrusted a tender nursling. 
Upon her knees, before the little one has begun 
to form ideas into thoughts, does she implore 
her Creator to grant wisdom to make her a 
competent teacher to her child, fortitude to re- 
sist the yearnings of maternal love that would 
lead her to undue indulgence, grace so to con- 
duct, that her example may be a fit pattern for 
her offspring to copy. See that mother, giving 
her first lessons, not from the story of Mother 
Goose, one of the earliest falsehoods offered to 
the infantile perceptions, but from the affecting- 
prints of Joseph and his brethren, of Christ 
blessing, while he takes the little children in 
His arms. She addresses the opening under- 
standing with momentous, but simple truths, in 
the language of the truly divine songs of Dr. 
Watts. Thus is the attention of her child first 
directed to the All-seeing eye of God, fixed 
upon him ; his little heart becomes affected with 
the especial goodness of his Father in Heaven, 
and the duties of reverence, of worship and 
obedience to the Creator, are early inculcated. 
The judicious mother now culls from the stores 
of her own memory such facts, drawn from 
natural science, as may most interest a child ; 
she presents to him what is true and what is 
lovely in nature, taking care not to sully the 



AND ITS CAPABILITY OP KNOWING. 89 

youthful intellect with pernicious fictions, not 
to confound it with abstractions, nor to cram it 
with more ideas than the conception can receive. 
Of such early instruction, many a one, through 
the progress of fife, can testify to the benefit. 
Instead of having the mind filled with the pue- 
rile and ridiculous images of a disordered fancy, 
it is, even in infancy, taught to reflect, to search 
for truth, to delight only in what is beautiful and 
good. Such a mind will, it is probable, for- 
ever reject coarseness, folly and falsehood. 

Let none of you engaged in the delightful 
duty of communicating instruction to the young, 
be discouraged with the unaptness of -a pupil. 
That pupil may, while silently listening, be 
employed in grasping with all his mental ener- 
gy the truths imparted. Silence is not always 
a symptom of vacuity of mind, it sometimes 
marks intense application, and this very appli- 
cation will often accomplish more than readi- 
ness. Some who commence study late in life' 
are so discouraged with the slowness of their 
understandings, that they are ready to aban- 
don it at the onset. Let none of you be thus 
discouraged. The world of intellect, full 
of wonders and of beauty is still hidden from 
you ; open the eye of your mind while the cur- 
tain is lifted that conceals it from your view. 
The effort may cost you much, but your reward 



90 CONSCIOUSNESS. 

will be ample. What would not the blind give 
for sight ? Witness the amazing difficulties, 
which, by patience, they overcome to obtain a 
little knowledge. A small part of the like per- 
severance in study and reflection, would enable 
you to appropriate to yourselves the delightful 
truths of nature, of history and of morals. The 
one talent is yours, labour diligently, that at the 
return of your Lord, you may render Him that 
with interest. 



CHAPTER III. 



CONSCIOUSNESS. 



Not to trouble you, my young friends, with 
the opinions of the metaphysical schools, we 
shall keep in view the most simple facts of this 
science, and proceed to the investigation, as far 
as we can comprehend it, of the manner in 
which the mind acquires and uses knowledge. 
Knowledge is the result of the mind's own ope- 
rations, and these operations, that we may un- 
derstand them more clearly, will be considered 
under the names by which they are usually 
designated. Consciousness, Sensation, Atten- 
tion, Conception, Memory, Association, Abstrac- 
tion, Reason, Judgment and Imagination. 



CONSCIOUSNESS. 91 

We commence with Consciousness, not be- 
cause it is the first mental operation, but because 
it seems to stand first in order. To know our- 
selves, is our first duty ; it is the preparation 
for all other knowledge. Whatever else we 
regard is external or foreign ; in looking at our- 
selves we are at home. This indeed is the very 
foundation of our study, for when we assert that 
we think, we feel, we will, it is consciousness 
alone that dictates the assertion ; for it alone gives 
us the knowledge of these mental operations. 
Consciousness exhibits to the reason that some- 
thing within, which thinks, feels, and wills. It 
is consciousness that shews to the mind its own 
existence. It gives the knowledge of the me, 
as Cousin expresses it ; the knowledge of the 
not me is derived from sensation. These two 
kinds of knowledge bound or limit each other, 
for whatever is perceived by Consciousness is 
me, all else is not me. 

We have a knowledge, it is true, of our own 
persons, from sensation ; we touch, we see our 
form, we- hear our voice; but the body itself 
is not the me, for the hand is not conscious of 
any power to move, neither is the foot, but there 
is some active principle within the frame that 
feels the ability and the will to perform motion, 
and by it, is the hand or foot, like a piece of 
machinery, put in operation. 



92 , CONSCIOUSNESS. 

This moving power is the mind, and the 
knowledge that the mind has of its own exist- 
ence is derived from consciousness. Each one 
for himself knows that he has thoughts, that he 
feels certain emotions of pleasure or of pain, 
that he has desires, strong or feeble, after par- 
ticular objects, that he wills to perform certain 
actions. This is Consciousness, and Reason 
immediately perceives that these thoughts, feel- 
ings and volitions must belong to some being or 
subject, and calls this being I or me. The 
knowledge of self-existence is a perception of 
the Reason, this the brute has not, for he has 
no knowledge except from sensation.* Reason 
deducing from Consciousness the knowledge of 
self, will also arrive at the knowledge of a First 
Cause, the Origin of me, and of all other effects 
that are not me. 

These facts may be perceived by the mind 
without sensation ; first, my own existence, 
which is me, second the place in which I exist, 
which is not me, third the Cause of my exist- 
ence, and of the existence of the space I occupy, 
as well as of the relation we hold to each other. 
Hence we perceive that consciousness is inde- 
pendent of all other operations of mind, and 
gives knowledge and evidence distinct from 
that which is furnished by the senses. 

* Note D. 



CONSCIOUSNESS. 



By the external signs of countenance, lan- 
guage and actions, we become acquainted with 
the minds of others ; by consciousness, with our 
own. We know that we think, that we love, 
hate and desire. Should the question be asked 
how we know this, we could give a reply, not 
more satisfactory, than we could to the question, 
how we know that we perceive an object or a 
sound, or how we could prove ourselves to be 
sensible of cold or heat . ? yet no one doubts his 
power to think, to remember, to associate ideas, 
to judge, to reason, to desire, to feel aversion, 
love, joy and fear. " The phenomenon of Con- 
sciousness, says Cousin, is given by an imme- 
diate apperception which obtains it and knows 
it directly." He also calls Consciousness, "in- 
ternal intuition, immediate vision and percep- 
tion." 

External perception assures us of the exist- 
ence of body or matter ; consciousness con- 
vinces us of the existence of something inde- 
pendent of the body to which we give the name 
of mind or soul. No one in his senses can 
doubt that the objects he perceives are real, so 
no one doubts that he thinks and feels. Con- 
sciousness is a simple state of the mind, it re- 
quires no external objects for its exercise, the 
reflective powers are alone concerned in it ; a 
full proof that the part called Myself, the soul, 



94 CONSCIOUSNESS. 

exists independently of the body. " Every per- 
son is conscious that he is now the same person 
or self he was as far back as his remembrance 
reaches ; since, when any one reflects upon a 
past action of his own he is just as certain of 
the person who did that action, namely himself, 
the person who now reflects upon it, as he is 
certain that the action was at all done. Nay, 
very often, a person's assurance of an action 
having been done, of which he is absolutely 
assured, arises wholly from the consciousness 
that he himself did it." # , . 

Consciousness, therefore, assures us of our 
identity ; that is, of our being the same person 
now that we were twenty or thirty years ago. 
This consciousness of the past we obtain through 
the memory, reflection gives consciousness of 
the present, by imagination we carry ourselves 
or our consciousness into the future. Thus have 
we, sleeping or waking, a continued sense of our 
existence ; and who will have the temerity to 
suppose that this sense of being or existence 
will ever cease ? The infidel who rejects the 
belief of the immaterial and immortal part of 
man, is as absurd as the philosopher who 
doubted the evidence of his senses ; who as- 
serted that there was no such thing as pain. Of 
this fact he was convinced by a hard blow upon 

* Bishop Butler. 



CONSCIOUSNESS. 95 

the head. It will be well for those who doubt 
of the existence of the soul, if they be not cured 
of their unbelief in a manner more fatal to their 
happiness. 

- Upham says, " a man may reason against 
Consciousness as a ground and law of belief, 
either for the sake of amusing himself and puz- 
zling others ; but when he not only reasons 
against it as such, but seriously and sincerely 
rejects it, it becomes quite another concern, and 
such an one has by common consent, broken 
loose from the authority of his nature, and is 
truly and emphatically beside himself." 

A curious instance of this kind of derange- 
ment was seen in the case of a highly respecta- 
ble and pious gentleman, who, as was supposed, 
through much study, became thus disordered. 
He seemed to have lost his belief of the identity 
of things, as well as of his personal identity. He 
spoke, when induced to enter into conversation, 
of every thing as apparent ; but there was a 
strange incoherence in his discourse when he 
undertook to converse of events or of persons 
which had in time past been interesting to him. 
There was a struggle to maintain the style of 
the doubtful ; and it was amusing, if amusement 
might be said to enter into so sad a contempla- 
tion of the disorder of the gifted intellect, to 



96 CONSCIOUSNESS* 

observe how continually he was betrayed into 
the certain. " It apparently was so :" but to 
whom was it so . p The answer must be, to me : 
who is this me ? 

All the senses are to us sources of enjoyment. 
How delightful to open the eyes to the joyous 
beams of the morning sun, to look out upon the 
beautiful earth covered with a carpet of green, 
from which thousands of fragrant and lovely 
flowers are springing ; to hear the soft notes of 
the little birds ; to taste the delicious fruits of 
summer, while reposing on the soft and shaded 
herbage. Still more delightful are the strains 
of music, the kind countenance and morning 
salutation of a friend ; the eloquence of the eye 
and the lip ; the voice of love and sympathy. 
But oh, far beyond this, is the enjoyment arising 
from the consciousness that we are something 
in God's creation above animate and sensitive 
beings, to know that we think, reason, feel ; to 
live in a world of our own. We might become 
blind, deaf, dumb ; this fair creation be shut out 
from our perception, the voice of melody and of 
friendship no longer vibrate to the heart's core ; 
still would there be within us, something that 
would think and enjoy. This something is in- 
dependent of the gross body ; it would hold 
communion with other minds, live in other 



CONSCIOUSNESS. 97 

worlds, be to us an assurance that another and 
higher state of existence was intended for this 
intellectual part we call the soul. 

Consciousness belongs to every one as a con- 
dition of reason, but reflection belongs to those 
only who attend to consciousness ; it is con- 
sciousness put in operation. It is the mind 
bent or turned by attention in upon itself, to 
observe or scrutinize its own operations. What 
is the mind but ourselves ? and where should 
we dwell, but at home, with ourselves f If a 
householder should be continually abroad, at- 
tending to the concerns of others, his house 
would be badly kept, his children run into dis- 
orderly conduct, his servants become unfaithful, 
his condition at last be bankruptcy. So with the 
mind. Living out of ourselves, that is, without 
reflection or attending to what passes within 
our minds, thought will run into disorder, the 
understanding will be obtuse, or unfaithful, and 
reason become a bankrupt. Refusing to exer- 
cise the distinguishing attribute of his immortal 
nature, man does not by any means so well fill 
up his station in existence as the brute guided 
by the impulse of instinct. 

Reason has its sublime st exercise when en- 
gaged in the investigation of the noblest work 
of the Almighty Creator, the soul ; the soul 



98 CONSCIOUSNESS. 

created in the image of God, destined to exist 
when the glories of earth shall fade away, 
formed to display the perfections of the Uncre- 
ated Godhead in its redemption ! In this is 
the noblest exercise of human reason. In this 
is man eminently distinguished from the brute. 
The brute is sensitive and has through the 
senses the instinctive understanding of many 
things. He distinguishes what is good for 
him or hurtful, he knows friends from stran- 
gers, he is capable of remembrance, he feels 
affection and aversion, expresses joy and fear, 
and has a sort of foresight ; but he knows not 
himself by consciousness and reflection. This 
glorious prerogative is bestowed upon the rea- 
sonable soul, upon the creature destined to 
immortality. 

By our senses we arrive at a knowledge of 
the world without, by reflection or attention to 
our consciousness or thoughts, at the world 
within. And for what purpose was the world 
without made, but that it might be connected 
with the world within ; that is, with thought, 
with feeling, with reason and with conscience I 
The soul is brought in contact with material things 
that it may be tried by them ; and how can it be 
tried by them except in a state of reflection f 

The person who lives without reflection, that 



CONSCIOUSNESS. 99 

is, without examining his own thoughts, feel- 
ings and desires in the light of reason, of con- 
science and of Revelation, lives like the brute 
under the dominion of the senses. Reason to 
such a one is of less value than instinct is to the 
animal. He lives like a child led by the preju- 
dices of others ; well for him should he suffer 
himself to be guided by their reason. In com- 
mon matters he is of the opinion of the last 
speaker, and in religious belief he is blown 
about by every " wind of doctrine." He knows 
not his own mind, for he has never reflected 
sufficiently to understand what manner of thought 
is his. The glass of consciousness does not 
hold him up to himself, so that to himself he is 
nobody. 

Nor is this his worst misfortune. In degra- 
ding his nature, he does not lose his respon- 
sibility. He may, indeed, through indolence 
or a love of sensual gratification, refuse to cul- 
tivate, by means of reflection, the powers of the 
wonderful Intellect, revealed to him by con- 
sciousness ; but he cannot do it with impunity, 
for consciousness will sooner or later force its 
light into the mind, and conscience awaking 
from the slumber of years, will be heard like the 
roar of a lion aroused in his den. 

My dear young friends, the world within you 
is open to yourselves and to God alone. None 



100 CONSCIOUSNESS. 

else can tell what passes through your minds* 
You may deceive others and even yourselves 
by the amiability of your deportment, the cor- 
rectness of your conduct, by the piety in your 
profession ; while the feelings of envy, of pride, 
of passion may lie concealed in the bosom : and 
when in apparent devotion your lips invoke the 
Great Creator in prayer, or render Him hom- 
age in praise, your heart may be far from Him; 
God not in all your thoughts. This, while con- 
cealed from all around, to you is known in 
consciousness. Shut not out its light ; let re- 
flection set it before your conscience. It is 
known to God, He formed your understanding, 
and " God will uot be mocked." 

Says Coleridge ; in the Aids to Reflection, 
" An hour of solitude passed in sincere and 
earnest prayer, or in the conflict with, and con- 
quest over a single passion, or bosom sin, will 
teach us more of thought, will more effectually 
awaken the faculty, and' form the habit of re- 
flection, than a year's study in the schools with- 
out them. Let it not be forgotten that the powers 
of the understanding and the intellectual graces 
are the precious gifts of God ; and that every 
Christian, according to the opportunities vouch- 
safed to him, is bound to cultivate the one and 
to acquire the other; Indeed he is scarcely a 
Christian who neglects so to do." 



SENSATION. 101 



CHAPTER IV. 



SENSATION. 



Sensation is the perception we have of the 
properties of material objects by means of the 
five senses, smell, taste, touch, hearing and 
sight. 

The mind being in itself an immaterial ex- 
istence, intellectual and moral, it is difficult to 
conceive of it in connection with matter or body, 
though it is perhaps still more difficult, to con- 
ceive of it unconnected with body. The man- 
ner of this connection has never, as yet by sci- 
entific research been discovered. Some theo- 
rists make the brain the organ not only of all 
sensation and intelligence, but also of moral 
feeling. Wp are conscious that the sensation of 
cold, which we feel when placing our feet upon 
the snow, is in the feet and not in the head. 
We refer our perception of odours to the nose, 
and of the various qualities of our food to the 
palate. We are sensible of a pain in the head 
when the mind v is intensely, and for a length of 
time, applied to any one operation of thought ; 
so of a fluttering at the heart and tremor in 
various parts of the frame, when under the 
excitement of strong emotion. The paleness of 
fear or of sorrow — the flush of anger and of 



102 SENSATION. 

shame, show the empire of mind over the cir- 
culating fluid, the blood. The common sense 
of mankind, as obtained from consciousness, 
and expressed in language, is the evidence from 
which we draw the conclusion that the soul uses 
the body as its organ, and that every part of 
the corporeal frame is subject to its dominion. 

How the union between mind and matter is 
established, will probably remain among the 
secret things that belong to God. Let it be our 
wisdom to be satisfied with such discoveries as 
reason, aided by Scripture, may unfold. The 
Creator, as we are assured by the Word of 
Truth, intended, in the formation of the mate- 
rial universe, as it is known to us, to give a 
display of His own perfections. The wisdom 
seen in adapting and relating things and beings 
to each other, the goodness in providing for the 
happiness of the meanest creature, the admi- 
rable workmanship every where exhibited, 
plainly prove ^that this display of Divine per- 
fection was fitted for creatures formed to know, 
to understand, to admire and to adore. To 
know and understand the wisdom of the Deity, 
the rational intellect would be sufficient ; to 
adore His moral perfections, the moral nature 
alone of the soul would be necessary ; but to 
admire His works the perceptions arising from 
sense are indispensable. 



SENSATION. 103 

For what purpose is the beauty spread over 
the heavens, and glowing and sparkling in innu- 
merably varied forms upon earth, but that it 
may charm the eye of man ! Why are the 
woods, the groves and meadows filled with 
melody ? why, do the waters murmur over their 
pebbly beds, and the soft breezes whisper among 
the trees, but to please his ear ? Why is the 
air loaded with the sweets of odoriferous plants, 
why do trees bend under their delicious bur- 
dens, but to satisfy his smell and taste ? All 
the works of God praise Him, and man so won- 
derfully made is fitted by his nature to enjoy 
them. In the social relations man needed an 
organic frame. Without body we know not 
what might be the medium of spirit's intercourse 
with .spirit ; as it is, we are sensible of the de- 
lights of personal friendship, the cordial touch 
of the hand, the gaze of affection ; the inter- 
change of thought by the means of language, 
is precious to the heart. 

Thus we see that man in his sensitive nature 
is adapted to_this earth which was first created 
for his reception. Allied by his senses to the 
animal tribes of which he forms the highest 
species, he is akin to spiritual and angelic beings 
by his intellectual perceptions, his reason and 
his moral feelings. That we are fearfully and 
wonderfully made, we would humbly and grate- 



104 SENSATION. 

fully acknowledge ; and while we feel that our 
origin is in the dust, and our nature allied to that 
of the mere animal, we may enquire with won- 
der, " Lord, what is man that Thou art mindful of 
him ?" " Thou hast made him a little lower 
than the angels, and crowned him with glory 
and honour." 

How the two states of existence, material 
and immaterial, sensitive and intellectual, act 
upon each other, we cannot tell ; neither can we 
ascertain whether the mind originates our first 
ideas, or whether they are furnished by the 
impressions of the senses. Here, experience 
does not teach us, for memory goes, back only 
to a certain point, and this point reaches not 
the beginnings of thought. Nor is this research 
necessary. It is sufficient here to notice that 
the mind seems to be set in motion by the 
objects that offer themselves to the senses of 
sight, hearing, touch, taste and smell. These 
senses in some way, perhaps by means of an 
influence communicated through the nerves, are 
under the direction of the mind, and are used 
by it as instruments of primary perception. 
Should any one of these senses be wanting, the 
mind would be deprived of that instrument of 
perception, and consequently, in the class of 
ideas, communicated by that sense, it would 
be deficient. A blind person could have no 



SENSATION. 105 

idea of colours, nor a deaf one of sounds, this 
latter would also be dumb or deprived of the 
power of expressing thought by speech, never 
having heard the sounds which are the outward 
symbols of thought. An original imperfection 
in the organs of sight causing us to see objects 
indistinctly, would occasion such imperfection 
in the mental perception of them, as to render 
the conception incorrect. 

In like manner with the sense of hearing. 
Imperfection in this would render our articula- 
tion incorrect, and perhaps may account for 
that defect called the want of a musical ear. 
Some persons cannot distinguish one tune from 
another, and others are so ignorant of the place 
of sounds, that a knock at a door will send them 
to one in an opposite direction. 

The senses of smell and taste connect man 
with material objects and those inanimate. 
They are senses of the lowest order and prob- 
ably possessed by brutes in much greater per- 
fection than by man ; indeed they appear to 
constitute the chief gratifications of the animal 
tribes, and have but little to do" with the intel- 
lect. They furnish no materials for the finer 
emotions, though they enter largely into what 
are called the pleasures of sense. The modern 
fine lady cannot exist without her perfumeiy, 
the finished epicure finds living insupportable 



106 SENSATION. 

without the spices of the East, the olive and the 
grape of the South. The earthly gifts of our 
Creator are all good and valuable to us, and as 
we have senses adapted to their enjoyment, 
they should be thankfully used ; but of the 
abuse we must beware. Luxury and intem- 
perance stupify the soul ; by them, the fine per- 
ceptions of beauty and propriety, the intellec- 
tual conceptions of judgment, of reason, of moral 
sense and of conscience are confused ; even the 
social affections are buried in the grave of sen- 
.suality. When the soul subjects itself to plea- 
sures purely organic, it descends as near as pos- 
sible to the level of the brute. Alexander the 
Great, though possessed of fine intellectual qual- 
ities, in the disappointment of his ambitious 
projects, returned to the objects that had prob- 
ably in his youth afforded him most delight ; 
not being permitted to partake of nectar with 
Olympian Jupiter, he contented himself with 
inebriating draughts from the cup of Hercules. 
To the sense of touch may be referred our 
knowledge of qualities in bodies, of a higher 
order, than those, which we obtain by the per- 
ceptions of taste and smell. From it we derive 
our ideas of cold and heat, of hardness and 
softness, of smoothness and roughness, of form, 
and of extension. These ideas furnish matter 
for some of the most acute reasonings of the 



SENSATION. 107 

mind. The sense of touch or feeling is not con- 
fined to any parfrof the body, though some parts 
are more susceptible of the sensation than others. 
The hand, the feet, the tongue and the lips are 
such parts. The hand, besides being the in- 
strument, by the means of which we are enabled 
to perform labour, is especially the organ of 
touch ; by it, we are made acquainted with cer- 
tain qualities of bodies which the general sense 
of feeling, or as some call it tact, would not 
very definitely convey ; inequalities, for instance 
on surfaces, that not even the eye, unassisted, 
could detect ; thus may touch be a surer 
source of the idea of form than sight. In some 
cases the defect of sight is remedied by touch, 
as in the blind, who are taught to read by the 
means of raised letters. This process of learn- 
ing to read is tedious, but wonderful have been 
its results in the instruction of those whom Prov- 
idence has deprived of sight. A deprivation of 
the organ of touch, the hand, is sometimes sup- 
plied by an increased sensation in other parts. 
Instances of this are seen in those, who, born 
without arms, are able to use their toes in many 
labours that are performed by the hands alone ; 
such as sewing, writing, cutting and even draw- 
ing, with tolerable skill. Some with the lips or 
tongue are known to thread a needle. A loss 
of one of the senses will by the force of atten- 



108 SENSATION. 

tion and habit produce great acuteness in the 
others. Some years ago, before institutions for 
the blind were known, a young lady residing 
near the City of New- York, who having the 
misfortune to lose her sight at the age of five 
years, had such acute perceptions of hearing 
that she never forgot a person, not even the 
name of one whom she had once heard speak ; 
the sound of the voice which for years she 
had not heard, would bring to her lips the name, 
with the expression, manifesting her pleasure, 
" I am glad to see you." In most cases the sound 
of the voice was not necessary, she recognized 
the step. Her sense of touch was so acute that 
in sewing together bits of coloured cloth, she 
would, from feeling the cloth before it was cut, 
assort the different colours, and match them 
according to the plan of arrangement, in that 
old-fashioned piece of workmanship, called a 
rag-carpet. Although perfectly blind, she went 
readily to any part of the house. She was very 
particular as to the arrangement of her dress, 
enquiring into the fashion, and desirous that the 
colours she wore might be well chosen and be- 
coming. 

The primary subjects of thought, or our first 
ideas, depend as far as we can ascertain, on 
the perceptions of the senses. The mind has 
a power within itself to apprehend whatever is 



SENSATION. 109 

presented to it ; but before the intellect is suf- 
ficiently strong to take hold of abstract prop- 
erties, to understand relations or fitness ; before 
it is sufficiently cultivated to perceive beauty 
or order, or accustomed to turn its perceptions 
upon itself, in the difficult labour of reflection, 
the mind is employed in the pleasant and easy 
exercise of its powers upon the objects that 
address themselves to the senses. Like the 
body must it be trained by exercise. The hu- 
man frame is provided with all the instruments 
of motion, but its first movements are of the 
most simple kind and altogether instinctive or 
involuntary. When the voluntary motions be- 
gin, being restricted by the feebleness of mus- 
cular power, the progression is almost imper- 
ceptible, from the first time the infant reaches 
his hand after an attractive object, to the steady, 
guarded and swift movement of the sailor, as 
he springs from rope to rope Until he plants his 
foot upon the pinnacle at the mast-head. 

Thus it is with the mind ; though possessed 
of power to reach the loftiest conceptions, yet 
in its connection with the body it is impeded in 
its operations, or rather by this connection, is 
it brought in contact with the material world. 
The senses afford the first means of commu- 
nication between the soul and external things ; 
between the me and the not me. The infant 



110 SENSATION. 

opens its e} T es to the light, but without perceiv- 
ing it ; in a few weeks the eager turning of his 
head towards a candle or the window, shows 
some perception of objects ; noise attracts his 
notice, motion pleases him. Sight, hearing and 
touch give the first ideas to the new-born intel- 
lect ; taste is then a pure instinct, and smell 
useless. In after years these senses are used 
in the animal or artificial wants of man, while 
sight, hearing and touch are employed in his 
high intellectual pursuits and more refined 
pleasures. The period of childhood is passed 
in acquiring, by means of the senses, a multitude 
of ideas. They are the rough materials of 
which conception frames its images. As mind 
progresses in its operations, thought labours to 
turn these treasures, carefully preserved by 
memory, to good account ; it examines, com- 
pares, combines, arranges and reasons ; until 
from the first foundation of knowledge laid in 
the senses, is science, by the operation of intel- 
lect, built up in its exact and beautiful propor- 
tions. 

Most brutes, like men, are provided with the 
five senses, but a noted difference is remarked 
in their perceptions. Brutes perceive objects 
though they seem to notice but few of their 
qualities, confining their attention mostly to such 
as tend to their preservation and comfort 



: 



SENSATION. Ill 

Every animal knows the particular kind of food 
provided for his species. The insect that lives 
on the rose-leaf will not be induced to feed 
upon the cabbage. In all the brutal tribes the 
senses of sight, hearing and smell appear to 
contribute especially to their preservation from 
danger, and to aid in their search after food ; in 
eating and in motion they seem to find exquisite 
delight. . - 

Here we have a striking instance of the good- 
ness of our Creator, for in forming sensitive 
beings without intellectual and immortal spirits, 
He has bestowed upon them as much enjoyment 
as animal life can receive. Some seem to enjoy 
even the comforts of home that belong to - ra- 
tional and social beings. The dog at his mas- 
ter's feet luxuriates in repose at the parlour fire, 
while the kitten, in its gambols, enjo}^s with the 
little ones the sport of entangling the yarn of 
the aged grandmother. As God has bestowed 
life upon the animal tribes, so has He given to 
those which have not the added gift of reason, 
something that resembles it, instinct to enable 
them to preserve fife and to enjoy it. Some 
brutes show a sort of understanding, as is seen 
in the remembrance the elephant has of injuries, 
and in the discrimination of the dog, who in 
saving a drowning child, will catch at its clothes 
with his teeth, though with care he avoids doing 



112 SENSATION. 

any injury to its person. As some animals ap- 
pear to assimilate to man in his understanding 
and social feelings, so many men appear in 
these respects but little raised above the animal, 
and even sink far below the level of the affec- 
tionate faithful dog. In the indulgence of appe- 
tite they are sensual and fix themselves upon 
the gross things of earth, or else light and tri- 
fling, like the butterfly, they seek but to flutter 
among the gewgaws of life. Reflection is a 
toil to them, and qualities in objects that demand 
it are disregarded. Pity that the nobler part 
of our nature, the immortal Intellect, should 
subject itself to the dominion of that, which ought 
to be used as its servant. 

The exercise of any one of the senses leaves 
an impression upon us that we term sensation : 
but in these impressions we notice a remarkable 
difference. We see a flower and obtain an idea 
of its form and colour ; we smell it and a per- 
ception of some odour, agreeable or the contrary 
remains in the mind. We hear a sound and 
receive an impression of something loud or low, 
harsh or melodious. We touch a body and 
perceive that it is either hot or cold, hard or 
soft ; we taste it and find it sweet or sour, bitter 
or insipid. The touch of ice produces the sen- 
sation of cold, that of fire heat ; agreeable food 
gives us pleasure, so do fragrant odours. These 



SENSATIOX, 113 

effects are all produced upon the organ itself; 
that is in the tongue which tastes, in the hand 
which touches, in the nose that smells, and have 
se little to do with the mind, that it is difficult 
to recall them, unless through attending cir- 
cumstances. 

Qualities of matter when simple produce sensa- 
tion, as being particularly addressed to the organ 
that is affected; when associated with other quali- 
ties, they produce emotion ; because the mind is 
moved or excited in the perception. The smell 
of a rose, the taste of honey, the touch of snow, 
the colour of scarlet, the sound of a bell, a note 
in music, are instances of simple qualities that 
produce sensation ; but the odour of a drug that 
has been nauseous, the taste of food of which 
we have partaken in the delights of social con- 
viviality, the touch of a hand* stiffened by the 
frost of death, the tolling of a bell that announces 
the last sad duties to a friend, or the merry peal 
that marks the approach of festive mirth, the 
crimson that rises to the cheek of modesty, or 
the paleness that denotes the ravage of sorrow 
or of want, are instances of associated qualities 
that move the mind, and produce what are called 
emotions. The sensations derived from smell, 
taste and touch, even when associated, have 
comparatively little power over the intellect, 

controlled by the rational or moral perception. 

8 



114 SENSATION. 

They originate the appetites, the lower propen- 
sities of our nature, and should submit them- 
selves to reason, and to conscience. Persons 
strongly affected by the lower sensations com- 
monly become subjects of pity, sometimes of 
disgust to those whose perceptions are refined. 

The objects of sight and hearing, addressed 
more particularly to the intellect, operate upon 
the finer feelings of our nature. Beauty affects 
not the eye, but the mind with delight ; music 
gives rapture, not to the ear, but to the soul. 
The pleasures arising from beauty, sublimity, 
harmony, and other qualities, called the plea- 
sures of taste, are common to all mankind, that 
is, to such as are provided with the senses of 
sight and hearing ; but the qualities in objects 
that give rise to the emotions of taste, are so 
affected by the power of associating them with 
circumstances, of adding to them by the ima- 
gination, of correcting, or rather selecting them 
by means of the judgment, that it is only where 
mind is refined by cultivation, that a true stand- 
ard of taste can be found. 

The senses of taste and smell make man 
acquainted with the qualities in bodies which 
excite him to the gratification of the appetites 
that tend to preserve his animal existence. 
Those of touch and sight prompt to research 
into the external properties of objects that exer- 



SENSATION. 115 

cise thought and reasoning ; hence the founda- 
tion of the natural sciences. Sight, also awa- 
kening the imagination, calls forth a variety of 
feelings that render life delightful, and the en- 
joyment derived from the agreeable qualities of 
objects is wonderfully increased by the sense 
of hearing, which opens the mind to a rush of 
exquisite emotions : quick and lively tones fill 
it with gaiety and joy, while those that are soft 
and gentle melt it into tenderness. But more 
than this, hearing imparts to the mind the 
thoughts and feelings of other minds ; and while 
the other senses form the connecting bond be- 
tween mind and matter, hearing is the imme- 
diate channel through which the intelligent spirit 
communicates itself with kindred spirits.* 

Thus we see that mind and matter are con- 
nected by means of the sensative nature of man. 
How mind can exist without the senses we know 
not, or whether when freed from the body it 
will be provided with another and more perfect 
organization we cannot tell ; but that the power 
of external perception will continue, we must 
believe. The glories of the eternal world are de- 
scribed by objects of sense. We have representa- 
tions of a heavenly city, with streets of gold, and 
walls with gates of precious stones ; we are 
assured that no night shall be there, but light 

* Note E. 



116 SENSATION. 

different from that of the sun. There also is 
the music of harp and of song ; the blessed are 
clothed in robes of white, wearing crowns of 
gold, with palms of victory in their hands. Ob- 
jects of sense figure in all the descriptions of a 
future state of existence ; as well in the world 
of woe as in the world of bliss, it would seem 
as if the spirit carries with it when it leaves the 
body something of its sensitive nature ; at least 
such is the expression left upon the sacred 
Record for our notice. In one of these states 
we find there shall be weeping and wailing ; in 
another, all tears shall be wiped from the eyes, 
and sorrow and sighing shall flee away forever. 
This subject teaches us that our material 
part though formed of dust, is honoured with 
an alliance to immortality. Use not the senses 
to the abuse of the god-like Intellect ; neither 
suffer the mind despotically to tyrannize over 
its servant the body, but preserve with care 
the casket which contains so invaluable a jewel 
as the soul ; for remember further, that though 
worms shall destroy your bodies, yet in your 
flesh shall you see God. 



ATTENTION. 11? 

CHAPTER V. 



ATTENTION. 



Attend, in French attendre, in Latin attendo, 
compounded of at and tendo to stretch, signifies 
to bend or stretch the mind to a thing. Atten- 
tion derived from the verb to attend may then 
be defined, bending or applying the mind to 
an object or subject for the purpose of examina- 
tion. It is the first requisite for making progress 
in knowledge, and may be given to a subject in 
various degrees ; it rewards according to the 
proportion in which it is given.* 

We say that bodies have properties, that is 
qualities ; they are hard or soft, black or white, 
have form and divisibility. Of the soul we say 
it has faculties, or the ability to think, to remem- 
ber, to combine, to judge, to reason. An inani- 
mate substance is inert, that is, has no power of 
motion within itself; when put in motion an 
impetus must be given it from some power 
without. We call this substance a thing. The 
mind in this differs from matter, having the 
power to move itself. We know that if we wish 
to shut out the perception of objects, we have 
the ability to close our eyes, to stop our ears ; 

* See Crabbe's Synonymes. 



118 ATTENTION. 

so when truth is presented to the reason, we 
may refuse to reflect upon it ; also, we may, if 
we choose, look upon one object, and turn away 
our eyes from another; so a] so, may we ex- 
amine a subject or part of a subject by reflec- 
tion or observation, and withdraw the thoughts 
from others. The mind is a person, not a thing. 
It is a free agent and has power to move itself. 
To the will then, must the faculty of attention, 
as already defined, be referred. 

The eye in itself has the property of receiv- 
ing objects, or rather of seeing them when open, 
without any operation of the will ; so the mind 
perceives whatever is brought before it by the 
senses or by reason, without any such opera- 
tion. But every one knows, that objects fre- 
quently present themselves to the sight, and 
sounds enter the organ of hearing, without 
making any sensible impression on the mind. 
Thus a person on a journey may pass through 
woods and vales, through villages and cities, 
without observation ; he marks not the beauty 
of the scenery, nor the magnificence of the 
buildings, he regards no objects but the mile- 
stones ; he observes nothing but his approach 
to his own dwelling. His child is at the point 
of death ; every object, every thought but that 
which so painfully presses upon him is disre- 
garded. Here we see that the mind is power- 



ATTENTION. 119 

fully, almost irresistibly bent upon a subject 
that for the present is absorbing. But should 
this parent be much given to the speculations of 
interest, might he not possibly be so drawn 
from the feelings of natural affection as to con- 
sider for a short time the location of some ad- 
vantageous offer that had just before been pre- 
sented ? or, rather, being a pious man, would 
he not readily revert from his affliction to the 
hand of Him who sent it, and occasionally be 
enabled to tear away his thoughts from grief so 
completely as to feel a peace greater than any 
procured by the objects of sense ! 

The mind then is under the influence of mo- 
tives, either external or internal which direct 
its voluntary movements in one particular course. 
When no motives operate, it is like a piece 
of machinery, in motion without any di- 
recting purpose. Thus a boat may be set afloat 
upon the ocean, and driven by the winds and 
waves in various directions, but without a helms- 
man it would not be certain to reach any par- 
ticular port. The boat is so constructed that 
being placed upon a body of water, motion 
would be natural to it : so the mind being en- 
dowed with the power of perceiving and com- 
bining objects and ideas, does thus act upon the 
subjects that without ceasing present themselves, 
even without the operation of the will. In sleep 



120 ATTENTION. 

the will does not control our thoughts, but the 
senses are sometimes sufficiently awake to set 
the mind in operation. The noise of thunder 
at such a time might occasion the dream of a 
battle. In this the dreamer would find himself 
in scenes of carnage ; heroes of renown, Cyrus 
and Alexander, with whom his mind in study 
had that day been occupied, would figure in the 
vision as his most intimate companions. In 
this instance we see, that not only is the will 
passive, but the judgment which is concerned 
in separating truth from falsehood, is not di- 
rected by reason. The same is the case in 
re very, in which the mind wanders from object 
to object, one idea chasing another without any 
regular train of thought. Thus while indolence 
prevents the will from exercising attention, 
the imagination like an untamed colt, gaily 
prances about in its wild frolics without any 
special object. 

This state of mind, by the French termed 
reverie from rever to dream, is well described 
by J. J. Rousseau in his own case. Says he, 
" When the weather was fine, I threw myself 
alone in a boat, which I rowed to the middle of 
the lake. There stretching myself at full length 
in the small vessel, with my face turned to the 
heavens, I went, carried about by the waves, 
sometimes for several hours together, plunged 



ATTENTION. 121 

in a thousand confused and delicious reveries, 
which had no object, but which were to my 
mind a hundred times to be preferred to all that 
I had found most delightful in what are called 
the pleasures of life. The noise of the water 
served to give some movement to the mind, 
which reverie extinguished, and made me feel 
pleasure in my existence without the trouble of 
thought." He says farther, "I have sometimes 
reflected profoundly, but rarely with pleasure ; 
revery unbends and amuses, reflection fatigues 
and saddens. At present forced to occupy 
myself, I scarce ever find those extacies which, 
during fifty years, held the place in my mind of 
fortune and of glory, without any expense but 
that of time, and rendered me in indolence the 
happiest of mortals."* 

How different is this account, given of him- 
self, by one of the most admired of enthusiasts 
and infidels, which the past age of literary 
glory has produced, from the humble and tri- 
umphant acknowledgment of the royal David. 
" O how love I Thy law ! it is my meditation all 
the day. I have more understanding than all 
my teachers ; for Thy testimonies are my med- 
itation." Ps. 119. Rousseau's pleasure origi- 
nated in disregarding the thoughts that passed 
through his mind, thus banishing all reflection. 

* Translated from " Les Reveries, Promenade 5 and 7. 



122 ATTENTION. 

He fled from himself, and more especially from 
the consideration of his relations to his Creator 
and to his fellow creatures. This, his life suf- 
ficiently testifies. David meditated on the law 
of God. Here he saw his own deficiencies and 
was abased, he saw the perfections of God and 
was filled with joy, such as the philosopher 
never knew in the indolent and most amusing 
reveries of his imagination.* 

The above illustration gives a melancholy 
view of a voluntary degradation of intellect. 
Says another celebrated French writer,t " The 
more a man has dominion over himself, and 
powerfully commands his different faculties, the 
more by that very fact is he a tnan, the less is 
he a thing. Man approaches to a thing, when 
he neglects this dominion which it depends on 
himself to assume ; when instead of taking pos- 
session of his faculties, he abandons them to 
their own operation, and continues idly slum- 
bering in the midst of a mechanism, of which 
all the springs have been placed under his 
control." 

Let us suppose a number of persons to arrive 
during the night at a castle situated on an emi- 
nence, commanding a view of an extensive and 
beautiful country. This castle is furnished with 

* Note F. f Theodore Jouffroy on the Faculties 

of the Human Soul : p. 357. 



ATTENTION. 123 

a variety of objects. There are pictures, statues, 
music ; cabinets filled with whatever may invite 
to research or study. Some of the apartments 
are magnificent and luxurious, others are plain 
and comfortable. At the rising of the sun, 
should the windows of the castle be suddenly 
opened and as quickly closed again, a confused 
mass of objects would be presented to the sight 
of the company, of which they could give no 
account, so true it is that we may perceive 
without obtaining knowledge. 

We will now imagine the windows again 
opened and to remain open all the day. Some of 
the party rush to the windows, others wander 
among the apartments in a sort of amazement, 
and know very little more of the objects with 
which they are surrounded at the close of the 
day than they did at its commencement. They 
will be in the condition of the two Esquimaux 
Indians, who, after a walk through the streets 
of London, sat down with their faces hid in 
their hands, exclaiming, " too much smoke, too 
much noise, too much houses, too much men, 
too much every thing." The mind cannot fix 
itself upon a variety of objects, so as to obtain 
a definite or satisfactory knowledge of any. 

But the company remain for a time occupants 
of the castle, and become more or less acquainted 
with its beauties and its wonders. Some ex- 



124 ATTENTION. 

amine the bold outline of the scenery, the cloud- 
capt mountains, the lofty forests and the flowing 
stream ; others spend hours and days in admi- 
ration of the pictures, the statuary and other 
rarities, or hang entranced over the tones of the 
harp or the organ ; some sit down over the 
ponderous tomes in the well-assorted libraries, 
themselves and all the world forgotten. A 
great proportion of the visitors pass the time in 
wandering from apartment to apartment, with 
a slight notice of a multitude of objects, while 
they examine none. Some few recline on the 
luxurious couches in a sort of delicious enchant- 
ment ; others, and those also a few, seek a quiet 
corner in a secluded apartment and spend the 
hours in social converse. 

All these persons have the perceptions of 
sense and the power of motion, whence then 
this difference in the attention they give to the 
objects of perception ? What prevents those 
who are sauntering idly from sitting down to 
the occupation of study ? why do not the dream- 
ers examine the precious and curious objects 
around them ? why do some seek the poetry of 
nature, and others the intercourse of friendship? 
You will answer because inclination prompts 
each one to some particular object, and the 
whole mind is bent or turned to that object or 
subject ; it is the voluntary action of the mind 



ATTENTION. 125 

under the influence of some motive, and this 
voluntary action is attention. The involuntary 
action of the mind is the simple perception of 
objects and their qualities, or of subjects and 
their relations, and the impression thus made 
by objects or subjects is so slight that it is 
scarcely retained ; but the voluntary action is 
prompted by some motive, and the impression 
remains ; this impression is remembrance. The 
well known illustration of a person at study in 
the room with a clock will help to make this 
plain. The clock strikes, but the mind being 
deeply engaged, the sound acts only upon the 
involuntary perception of hearing, the voluntary 
action of the mind is upon the contents of the 
book, therefore the sound does not rest in the 
memory. But should the person occupied with 
study, have upon his mind an appointment for 
a certain hour, in which he w^as much interested, 
the first stroke of the clock would rouse him 
from his occupation. The interest he felt in the 
appointment would turn his attention to the 
clock. 

Attention is the first voluntary operation of 
mind concerned in the acquirement of knowl- 
edge. Without it ideas are not formed into 
thought, they are unconnected and indistinct. 
Attention forms them into conceptions more or 
less varied ; these are secured by memory, con- 



126 ATTENTION. 

nected by association, arranged by abstraction, 
combined by imagination, examined by judg- 
ment. In childhood objects of sense more read- 
ily engage the attention than those in which the 
understanding and reason alone are concerned ; 
therefore is it that the young mind is so en- 
grossed by whatever is showy and striking to 
the senses. Glowing colours, uncommon forms, 
moving objects, noisy sounds, immediately draw 
the attention of children and youth. Every 
teacher knows that the buzzing of a fly will dis- 
tract a whole class while engaged in the most 
interesting recitation, and many a preacher has 
painfully witnessed the attention of some part 
of his flock withdrawn from the . most mo- 
mentous of all subjects, by the entrance of a 
well-dressed stranger. 

In most persons the attention is forcibly ar- 
rested by the perceptions of sense, because they 
stand out in bolder relief before the mind than 
its internal perceptions ; also, because less 
labour is necessary to see with the eye of the 
body than with the eye of the mind. To the 
question, do I exist ? the answer would be im- 
mediate, yes, is not this body me 9 I see it with 
my eyes, I touch it ; I know it to be myself. 
But put the question in another form ; does 
something called mind or spirit exist ? the truth 
is not so apparent, the answer would require 



ATTENTION. 127 

reflection. Consciousness, which belongs to 
every intellectual being, would answer the 
question, do I think ? but reflection which be- 
longs only to those who attend to consciousness, 
alone can answer, that this thinking part is mind 
or spirit ; is immaterial. We may justly be said 
to live in two states, the state of sensation and 
the state of reflection. At an early period of 
life it is exceedingly difficult to withdraw the 
mind from the objects of sensation, and it re- 
quires the utmost effort of attention to fix it on 
purely intellectual subjects. Hence the diffi- 
culty, of which every one is sensible, and youth 
in particular, of meditation. The subject that 
now engages us, the study of mind, is one of 
deep interest, but for this reason one of peculiar 
difficulty ; more difficult, even, than Geometry, 
for there thought has sensible objects, lines and 
figures, upon which to rest itself. The labour 
necessary in fixing the attention on studies of 
this nature, is often so discouraging to the indo- 
lent minds of youth, that they abandon in de- 
spair all the advantages of education. The 
operations of reasoning being so much more 
difficult to them than the exercise of the ima- 
gination, which attaches itself to the objects of 
sense, that they seek the food, craved by the 
mind in the lighter works of fancy ; here like 
the summer's insect on the wing, they wander 



128 ATTENTION. 

from flower to flower, but gather nothing, and 
when the winter of life overtakes them the 
storehouse of thought is unfurnished. 

The term genius to which we are apt to at- 
tach too much or too little meaning is another 
hindrance to youthful effort. A want of apti- 
tude or quickness in the intellect, is often urged 
as a reason for the neglect of application to 
study. Slowness in the perception of a pupil 
will sometimes so discourage the teacher that 
he is ready to abandon all attempt at giving 
instruction to such a one, and while the child, 
in apparent stupidity, is making a strong effort 
by means of attention to comprehend a lesson, 
the teacher gives him up as a hopeless case of 
dullness, and bends all his efforts to teach those 
who make a greater display of ability. The 
poor child thus discouraged can scarce ever 
give an answer when a question is put to him, 
either by his teacher, or his father, who ex- 
amines him upon his studies at home. In the 
mind of the parent the blame is often attached 
to the teacher, and school after school is tried, 
until the youth settles down into the stupidity 
to which they have doomed him, unless some 
accident draws him forth to new life, and a dis- 
play of the native vigour of his understanding. 

Some years since two boys were placed at 
the same school, the one bright, forward and 



ATTENTION. 129 

full of mischief; the other slow, unobtrusive 
and easily repulsed. The first would dash 
through any thing, and was the delight of his 
teachers by his ready answers and quick con- 
ceptions ; the last would attempt nothing that 
he could not comprehend, and would give no 
answer when he had no certain knowledge of 
the subject ; when he had, his timidity prevented 
a ready utterance. The teacher finding no dif- 
ficulties in lessons that by repetition had become 
to him perfectly familiar, considered it a waste 
of time or useless to explain ; particularly as 
some boys answered readily, and the modest 
lad who in Arithmetic and Algebra longed for 
explanation, which he dared not ask, was set. 
down either as a dunce or as too indolent to 
apply himself. He was thought to have no 
genius. His heart often swelled with this neg- 
lect, and much of the precious season of youth 
was wasted. Circumstances in after years 
threw him upon his own efforts, and the dull 
boy, now the self-made man, turns out to be 
the genius, while the bright youth, with all the 
advantage of a college course, will probably 
pass along the stream of life, an every day 
character. Slowness in the intellectual percep- 
tion is no sure mark of stupidity ; it is often the 
effect of that deep attention which is unwilling 
to leave any part of a subject without investi- 



130 ATTENTION. 

gation ; in this case it is the precursor of strong 
reflecting power, the attendant of absorbing 
emotion, the certain accompaniment of genius. 
Roger Ascham, an old English writer, says that 
" sad-natured and hard-witted children are 
among the best natures for learning." Nothing 
is more certain than that they often repay, in a 
fourfold degree, the patient attention of the 
pains-taking teacher who has made human na- 
ture his study. 

To the young, every encouragement that may 
induce to patient attention is held out in the 
examples of great men whose first efforts have 
seemed to promise very little. Fabius Maxi- 
mus, who so often defeated the great Hannibal 
in the second Punic war, and was five times 
raised to the dignity of Consul, in his boyhood 
was called the " little sheep," because of his 
dulness and slowness in learning. The whole 
history of this prudent general, whose mode of 
warfare served as a model for our own Wash- 
ington, exhibits habits of deep attention, re- 
sulting in that caution which extricated him 
from the difficulties into which rashness and 
want of reflection so often involve men. James 
Ferguson, an eminent philosopher, mechanist 
and astronomer, was the son of a peasant. He 
learned to read by listening to the instructions 
given by his father to his elder brother ; and 



ATTENTION. 131 

constructed a wooden clock without any knowl- 
edge of mechanism. While employed as a 
shepherd boy he studied the phenomena of the 
heavens, and made a globe as he had before 
made a watch. His patient attention to study 
raised him to great eminence in London, where 
he delivered public lectures, and ranked among 
his hearers, the Prince of Wales, afterwards 
George the Fourth. 

It is related of Vaucanson, the celebrated 
French mechanician, that when a boy he used 
to attend his mother to the house of her con- 
fessor, arid there, while she was engaged in her 
religious duties, he remained in boyish wea- 
riness in a hall, where the uniform motion 
of a clock attracted his attention. He suc- 
ceeded so well in the examination of its 
mechanism, that after various efforts he pro- 
duced a clock of his own workmanship. In 
later years he acquired great celebrity for his 
automata, of which among other remarkable 
pieces is a flute-player, as large as life, seated 
on a pedestal, containing a bellows within, by 
means of which the wind is so driven up as to 
move the lips and fingers of the automaton. 
Goldsmith was very unpromising in youth, so 
much so, that till late in life he was surprising 
his friends with productions of which they 
thought him incapable ; and Sheridan was pro- 



132 ATTENTION. 

nounced by his mother, who was a literary 
woman, to be the dullest of her sons. In after 
life he was remarkable for his dramatic works 
and finished oratory. 

On our interest in a subject, and our desire 
to understand it, depends our attention, and in 
this sense genius probably is the result of a 
strong application of the mind to one particular 
subject. The emotions centre on one point to 
which the attention is directed, and all the 
mental powers under the controul of the will, 
conception, memory, abstraction ; more espe- 
cially imagination and judgment act upon it. 
Be the subject music, the person not only be- 
comes a skilful performer but a composer ; be 
it mechanics, not only a good workman but an 
inventor of machinery. What it is that prompts 
the desire, or gives the aptitude for any partic- 
ular pursuit of mind is beyond our knowledge : 
" nature in some of her great operations has 
kept her own secrets,'' the enquiry on our part 
would be useless. Franklin attributes the cast 
of his genius to reading a work of De Foe's, 
entitled an Essay on Projects, " from which," 
says he, " I have derived impressions that have 
since influenced some of the principal events of 
my life." Franklin was not a brilliant man, 
but by patient attention and industry he became 
great ; he was the genius of his age. Newton, 



ATTENTION. 133 

whose discoveries in science will probably never 
be surpassed, declared them to be the result of 
" constant thinking ;" but his thoughts as we 
learn from the accounts of his early years, were 
directed to subjects of importance. While at 
school when other boys were engrossed with their 
sports, his mind was occupied either with me- 
chanical operations in imitation of the works of 
others, or with original conceptions of his own. 
Witness his mill which he set in motion by the 
power of a mouse enclosed in it ; his water- 
clock, the index of which was turned by water 
dropping on a piece of wood that moved the 
hands ; his mechanical carriage moved by means 
of a handle, wrought by the person who sat 
in it. In these instances are discovered the 
bent of mind in the great Newton while yet in 
the days of childhood ; and though no record 
is found of the improvement he made during 
the three years he spent in his college course at 
Cambridge, yet we find, that from some state- 
ment left of his expenses at that time, he pur- 
chased a prism, for the purpose of examining 
Descartes' Theorv of Colours.* 

mi 

This example illustrates what is here meant 
by genius, the whole mind bent or turned towards 
some one subject ; the habit of thinking on that 
subject becomes established, and thought like 

* Life of Sir Isaac Newton, by Brewster. 



134 ATTENTION. 

an inexhaustible fountain in the soul, is forever 
bubbling up, with fresh and sparkling inven- 
tions of its own. Those whose minds follow 
the imaginative power from object to object, 
may shine as the wits of the day, but they are 
the little wits. Thousands of such spring up 
in one century whose names are unknown in 
the next : many of these might have been emi- 
nent as poets, painters, philosophers, had they 
fixed their minds on one point, until it. became 
luminous in the light of reason. Pope says 
with his usual asperity when woman is the 
subject, 

" Most women have no characters at all." 

This severe satire is an undoubted truism, 
and for the reason, that they are remarkably 
deficient in habits of patient attention. The 
first perceptions of their minds are directed to 
the minutia of domestic concerns, so necessary 
to the happiness of life ; and the system adopted 
for their education has in a measure cut them 
off from the studies that help to form character ; 
even when such studies have been permitted, 
the time allotted them in the pursuit of science, 
has not been sufficient to establish such settled 
habits of thought, as might in after life help them 
to resist the vagaries of fancy. 

Another, and perhaps the best reason why 
female character so seldom takes a definite 



ATTENTION. 135 

form, is because in the early years of life women 
are the tenderest objects of human affection, 
and thus perhaps, unconsciously to themselves, 
and until the habit is formed and visible, un- 
perceived by others, do their thoughts turn upon 
themselves as the prominent objects of atten- 
tion ; and reasoning, from this premise, draw- 
ing a false conclusion, establishes them in the 
fallacy that they are, or rather that each one is, 
herself, the most important object in creation. 
Here then the emotions centre on self, and one 
who lives under this -delusion seeks for herself, 
that which will best serve her own gratification ; 
some seek the encreased admiration, others the 
augmented affection of those around them. 

In the above causes we find a reason why 
the female sex seldom exhibits a finished clas- 
sical scholar, such as Madame Dacier or Eliza- 
beth Carter : or an ethical writer such as Han- 
nah More ; or an eminent astronomer like Mrs. 
Somerville ; yet these instances prove that nat- 
ural ability is not wanting in woman for any 
acquisition, in which mind alone is concerned. 
Few like Marie of France, leave the splendid 
realities of a court for the imagery of the pen- 
cil ; yet, as in the example of Christina, Queen 
of Sweden, it is seen, that the pomp of royalty 
and the love of power, are not always sufficient, 
even in the female mind, to extinguish the fire 



136 ATTENTION. 

of genius, when blown to a flame by the fos- 
tering care of parental instruction. This last 
case indeed gives melancholy testimony that 
knowledge is not always turned to good account, 
yet it takes nothing from the proof that its ac- 
quirement depends, not on the sex, but on the 
industry of the individual. 

Whoever will take the pains to attend to the 
thoughts that flow through his own mind will 
perceive that the current is perpetual. The per- 
ceptions of the senses and association, present 
to the mind idea after idea in an unbroken stream, 
and no object of itself rests distinctly visible. 
The intellect in this case is a chaos ; but reason 
" the prerogative of man," voluntarily arrests 
the wanderings of thought. The mind then 
finds itself capable, not only of investigating 
outward things but of retracing its own progress, 
of retarding its own operations, and of forming 
such habits of thought and action as in future 
life may determine the character. This is the 
right use of reason, and will undoubtedly form 
a part of our moral accountability. When 
thought is left to its own vagaries the knowledge 
accumulated for ages will be of no use to the 
mind. Heaps of treasure may be scattered 
around, but he who opens not his hand to 
gather, will never be the richer ; and the indo- 
lent might starve where the industrious would 



ATTENTION. 137 

have abundance. So it is with knowledge. 
Teachers in vain expend their time and abilities 
in giving instruction to those who are inatten- 
tive ; for when the eyes are closed, though the light 
may shine ever so brightly, no object is visible. 
Thus is it with the mind. He who obstinately 
shuts out knowledge must remain ignorant, and 
endure the disgrace and the miseries of iano- 
ranee. A foolish fancy may laugh at applica- 
tion and declare it the drudgery of slaves, but 
in this case we may well use the old proverb, 
" let him who wins, laugh." The learned, the 
amiable, the pious Pierre Huet, while at school 
was much tormented by his companions on 
account of his close attention to study when 
they wished him to join in their sports. This 
did not deter the courageous youth. " I rose," 
said he, " before the sun, when they were all 
asleep, and went into the woods to read and 
study in quiet." The name of Huet, honoured 
at the court of Louis XIV., has descended to 
posterity, but where the names of those who 
mocked him ? 

Inattention to what is right, is a most common 
fault, and strongly marks the moral degradation 
of man. It is a voluntary refusal to exercise 
the reason ; it is placing the rational being on a 
level with the irrational ; and when it is found 
to close the mind to the knowledge of Divine 



138 CONCEPTION. 

Truth, the soul will indeed be doomed to end- 
less darkness ! 



CHAPTER VI. 



CONCEPTION. 



Our senses, as we have seen, give us know- 
ledge of all surrounding objects, consciousness 
of the internal operations of thought and feel- 
ing ; reason and conscience, as shall be here- 
after explained, make us acquainted with truth, 
necessary and moral. From these materials 
the mind works up innumerable compounds of 
thought ; attention as directed by the will, pre- 
senting the materials ; the will being in some 
way influenced by the emotions or feelings of 
the soul. The eye by the faculty of sight sees 
whatever object is placed before its vision ; so 
the mind perceives the existence of whatever 
is presented to it by any of the senses, as well 
as by consciousness, or by reason. This is its 
intelligence, which is analogous to sight in the 
eye. The knowledge thus acquired may be 
called ideas or perceptions. 

The eye has the power of perceiving objects, 
but those who shut their eyes will not see what 
is placed before them, and those who have a 



CONCEPTION. 139 

defect in vision do not distinguish with correct- 
ness. The faculty of sight in the eye, then, is 
one condition of the sensation, the will to see, is 
another. The intelligence of the mind, and 
attention to the objects or subjects brought be- 
fore it, are the conditions of the impressions 
made upon it. By reflecting a little upon what 
passes within your own minds you will under- 
stand what this means. A tree is an object 
perceived by the sense of sight, if you shut 
your eyes, you still have the object before you, 
that is the idea or impression of a plant, with 
trunk, branches, leaves, flowers and fruit. A 
whole object, in its several parts, arranged, or 
put together as the word Concipio means, stands 
distinctly before the intelligence. This is Con- 
ception. These perceptions are common to all 
who have the sense of sight, but the distinct 
impressions of objects, more especially com- 
bined, as in a landscape, so that they may be 
described by language or by the pencil, is the 
property only of such as have given them 
attention. 

Any one who has the sense of hearing may 
have the perception of every note of a tune, 
though all have not so distinct an impression of 
sounds connected, as to be able to sing a tune 
or part of a tune after the music ceases. They 
hear the notes but they have no conception of 



140 CONCEPTION. 

the air remaining in the mind; while others 
conceive it so strongly, that they can, not only 
sing it, but without singing are able to run over 
it in thought. Many persons have so little con- 
ception of musical composition, that they would 
not recognise a piece another time ; while again 
there are those who knowing nothing of the exe- 
cution or composition of music, can neverthe- 
less distinguish by the character of the music 
the productions of Beethoven and Mozart from 
those of Rossini. Such conceptions are the 
foundation of taste, and nearly allied to that 
operation of mind, called imagination. 

Consciousness gives to the mind a perception 
of its own operations ; that is, we know that we 
think ; but the actings of thought are not always 
so distinct as to leave an impression that may 
be recalled by the memory. The mind has no 
conception of any connected train of thought. 
Attention has been wanting. The idea of space 
is the immediate conviction of reason, because 
body being given, the mind immediately, ac- 
knowledges space in which it is contained ; but 
the conception of a boundless extent, filled with 
an infinity of worlds is something more. A 
mathematical axiom may at once be per- 
ceived by the mind ; but the conception of a 
demonstration founded upon it, is an operation 
of the understanding demanding great attention. 



CONCEPTION. 141 

From the above illustrations it will be seen 
that Conception is the first effort of the volun- 
tary action of the mind. The author of Home 
Education, calls it the " snow-drop of the mind's 
flower garden." Its beauty, accuracy and 
strength depend somewhat upon the perfection 
of the perceptive power, partly upon the emo- 
tions that strongly rivet the attention to one 
subject until it has been completely examined, 
and in part to its cultivation from early years. 
The mind may be aptly compared to a store- 
house, furnished by the senses and by reason 
with a vast variety of ideas that lie in confu- 
sion until arranged into conceptions or distinct 
thoughts. Many a person when brought to at- 
tend to a subject, exclaims I might have known 
all that before, but I never thought of it ; and 
this is true. The act of attention is the condi- 
tion of thought. 

Conception in children is seen at an early 
age in their recollection of objects. The infant 
at four months has a conception of the form and 
face of his mother and of his relation to her, 
that makes him spring to meet her, and cling 
to her bosom should a stranger attempt to take 
him ; also of the objects and persons about him, 
so that he screams with terror when carried to 
another house. The expression " he knows" is 
applied to this first operation of the infant mind, 



142 CONCEPTION. 

which is hailed with delight as the budding of 
the imperishable intellect. The busy operation 
of the conceptive power in children never ceases, 
either waking or sleeping ; in dreams they are 
occupied with their sports and their playthings, 
as the incoherent expressions of sleep often indi- 
cate. The little bdy is as much engaged in 
inventing new plays, as in after life he will be 
in the speculations of interest or in the labours 
of benevolence. He sets up his carriage in his 
mother's parlour, and enacts in playful mim- 
icry the shopkeeper, the doctor, and even the 
minister ; while his little sister, in a further 
corner, arranges her housekeeping with minute 
exactness, copying out the picture she carries 
in her mind of her dear mother's management. 
A striking lesson is this to the mother, inculca- 
ting watchfulness over herself, lest by careless- 
ness or misjudgment on her part, she lay the 
foundation in her daughter of misconception as 
to the important affairs of life. This is seldom 
rectified by experience and judgment in after 
years, for the first feelings of the heart being the 
strongest, reason seldom breaks up the fond 
associations that cling around it. The mother's 
tones, the mother's words and manners r and 
indeed all her actions are impressed in living 
imagery upon the •conception of her child ; for 
the attention being at that period particularly 



CONCEPTION. 143 

awake, these impressions are consigned to the 
keeping of the memory, and are thus retained 
to the latest hour of life. In proof of this, is 
the well-known fact, that the remembrance of 
the aged carries them more frequently to some 
sport or taste of their early youth, than to the 
enjoyments of middle years. Their first con- 
ceptions being connected with the fresh and 
vivid emotions of the heart, remain in the mind 
drawn in living characters, while the things that 
passed but yesterday before the obtuse percep- 
tion, have already faded from the remembrance 
like the unreal figures of an evening mist. 

Conception during the early years of childhood, 
is not unlike the impression that beings purely 
animal have of objects, and the variety we ob- 
serve in the mental progress of children is 
traced, in most cases, for allowance must be 
made for peculiar aptness, to the training they 
receive. Where we see one bright boy, who, 
like Michael Angelo, or La Caille, emancipate 
himself from the thraldom of repressed genius, 
we see hundreds whose feelings, views, and 
pursuits, are directed by paternal authority, or 
influence. Michael Angelo, being forbidden by 
his noble relatives, who thought themselves 
thus disgraced, the use of the pencil, flew to 
the chisel ; and La Caille, one whose name, as 
an astronomer, filled all Europe, being beaten 



144 CONCEPTION. 

by his father the parish clerk, because he wasted 
his time in observing the stars from the steeple, 
when sent to ring the bell, wept in bitterness of 
soul but could not desist. These children 
afford instances of the strong promptings of 
mental nature, the precursor of genius, but such 
instances are rare, for it seems ordained by 
Providence that children should depend on 
their parents for the provision of the nourish- 
ment necessary for the mind, as well as for the 
body. 

A faint or weak conception of the subjects 
that employ the more intellectual powers of 
thought, is often occasioned by the neglect of 
parents, or by the improper training of teachers 
in early youth. A little one applies to its mo- 
ther or teacher for the explanation of something 
that strikes his attention, and is repelled with 
the chilling remark that he is troublesome, or 
that children should not ask so many ques- 
tions. Curiosity or desire of knowledge being 
often thus repressed, the child after a time de- 
sists from his enquiries, and seeks no more to 
know the reason of things ; thus is the mind 
deprived of the nourishment requisite for its 
expansion, and remains in almost infantile 
feebleness, through the impatience, the indo- 
lence, or the ignorance of those whose chief 
business ought to be its cultivation. Alas that 



CONCEPTION* 145 

mothers should be so careful to provide good soil, 
and air, and light, and moisture for the plants that 
decorate their parlours, and which gratify them 
with a passing bloom, or transient fragrance; 
while they neglect to cultivate the minds of the 
lovely and intelligent beings who owe to them 
existence ; beings who are destined to be the 
friends and supporters of their declining years, 
to occupy their places in society, when they 
shall have returned to dust ; minds whose des- 
tiny to good or evil shall roll along the countless 
ages of eternity ! 

The unfolding intellect needs the skillful 
training of a patient, discreet and intelligent 
preceptor ; this first instructor should be the 
one whom nature and Providence have pro- 
vided. The mother being the first mover of 
the budding affections, ought herself to be the 
most fitting object to fix the attention of the 
opening intellect. Her appearance, in person 
and manners should give to the mind of her 
child ideas of neatness, propriety, and delicacy. 
The tones of her voice should hush in his young 
heart the strife of angry passion, which in her 
ought never to appear, even in the flashing of 
the eye, or the flushing of the cheek. Her lan- 
guage in the most playful mood should be the 
expression of truth clothed with refinement ; 

for never should a mother or teacher allow her- 
10 



146 CONCEPTION. 

self the habit of vulgarity in tone, in word, or 
in manner, that may remain in coarse and in- 
delible marks upon the conception of the youth- 
ful mind. The mother or teacher while thus 
placing before the perceptive faculty of the 
child, such objects as are best calculated to give 
him conceptions of beauty, delicacy and order, 
should make it a duty and a study to lead him 
to reflection ; training his mind to the examina- 
tion of the qualities of objects, while she ex- 
plains to his comprehension their relations to 
each other ; and thus truths, grasped by his 
understanding, will be connected in their proper 
harmony and order, and firmly fasten themselves 
upon his memory. 

The exercise of the memory on words alone 
is very injurious to the cultivation of the intel- 
lect. Words being only the signs of ideas, 
unless these ideas have already been received 
into the mind, convey to it no meaning. Speak 
to a person who does not understand French, 
the word chapeau, and it will not express to 
him the idea of hat, which is its meaning : so 
let a child learn from his Geography, that lati- 
tude is a line running parallel with the equator 
quite round the surface of the globe, and you might 
as well speak to him in Latin or Greek; or, 
that a noun is the name of any thing that exists, 
and has number, gender and case, and he is 



CONCEPTION. 147 

utterly confounded. Without explanation this 
would not be comprehended by an unlearned 
person of mature years ; and when children are 
obliged to commit to memory innumerable 
sentences of this kind, which to them convey no 
signification, is it to be wondered at, that learning 
becomes to their active and enquiring spirits, a 
drudgery not to be endured ? 

By this kind of teaching, which calls for little 
effort and less knowledge, on the part of the 
instructor, is the intellect, except in some very 
extraordinary cases, irreparably injured. The 
memory will be crowded with useless lumber ; 
the imagination cannot be true to nature, be- 
cause nature has not been in its glorious and 
refined beauty, accurately impressed upon the 
conception. The judgment will not be in ac- 
cordance with truth, because truth has never by 
it been examined ; the mind has indeed enquired 
what is truth, but to the enquiry, though made 
with intense eagerness, no answer has been given. 
Let parents and teachers tremble at the effects 
of such error ; for the mind craves knowledge as 
the body craves food, and lamentable may be the 
consequences if this thirst for learning be not 
gratified and supplied from pure and wholesome 
fountains. Who can tell what abundant sorrows 
had been spared our daughters, if their minds, 
when most susceptible of impressions, had been 



148 CONCEPTION. 

richly furnished with the truths of science and 
religion ; if they had nourished themselves with 
the facts presented by nature and by reason, in- 
stead of feeding their imaginations on the husks 
of vanity and fiction ? Who can calculate the 
beneficial results, had our sons, while employed 
in storing their memories with the declensions of 
nouns and the conjugation of verbs in unknown 
tongues, been also furnished with knowledge 
that might have interested and refined their 
minds ; with truth that might have elevated 
their feelings and led them to respect them- 
selves and their instructors ? But light is 
breaking upon us, and future generations will 
doubtless hail this period as a new era in the 
history of mind. 

The conceptions derived from the percep- 
tions of the senses, are those which first occupy 
the mind, and some of the senses leave upon it 
more vivid impressions than others. The senses 
of taste and smell, belonging more to the ani- 
mal than to the intellectual part of our nature, 
give in general but slight conceptions to the 
mind ; though the conceptions of sensible ob- 
jects are more or less vivid as the senses are 
more or less acute. Touch, which seems con- 
cerned in present examination, scarce leaves 
any conception upon which the memory can 
fasten ; and in this part of our mental constitu- 



CONCEPTION. 149 

tion is seen a remarkable instance of a benefi- 
cial provision made for us by nature ; for should 
the sensations that belong to feeling or touch 
remain indelibly impressed upon the mind, how 
augmented would be the miseries of life, in the 
recollection of the pains we had endured, and 
in the anticipation of their recurrence. 

The conceptions produced by hearing are strong 
and lively. Of this every singer is an instance, 
having the ability to repeat mentally, that is 
without utterance, any air that he can sing. 
But in the blind, the conception of sound is 
strikingly vivid, as in the case of the blind lady 
noticed on another occasion, who so intimately 
associated the person and the voice, that after 
the lapse of years the first tones would cause 
her to pronounce a name that by others was 
scarce remembered, How wonderful is the 
mind that loses nothing important, even in the 
failure of the bodily organs, for though, as in 
the case of blindness, to be deprived of the 
conception of colouring, and what is thought to 
be beauty in objects, be considered a great 
misfortune, it is after all, an imaginary one ; 
for the blind have not the conception of any 
such privation. Our conceptions of beauty de- 
pend chiefly upon our associations ; a striking 
illustration of which is mentioned by Alison in 
his Essays on Taste, in the case of the poet 



150 CONCEPTION. 

Blacklock, who was blind from infancy. His 
poetry is full of the imagery used by other 
poets, having from listening to reading and 
conversation learned the same associations. To 
the word white he applies the conception of 
innocence, to black that of gloom and melan- 
choly, to purple that of majesty. "It is ob- 
vious," says Alison, " that he may feel the same 
emotions from the use of these words, that we 
do from the colours they express." How be- 
neficent is this provision for the welfare of the 
intelligent soul, that a defect in its organic per- 
ceptions may be thus, more than compensated, 
by its own intellectual power. How much you 
are to be pitied said a person to a pious blind 
woman, who had once enjoyed sight. Rather 
to be envied was the answer : true I see not the 
glorious beauty of nature, neither am I pained 
by the folly and and wretchedness around me, 
and more than this I have in my mind, a world 
perfect in loveliness ; I see not the light of the 
sun, but I behold the Sun of Righteousness ; 
and my soul is full of light. 

Among the perceptions of sense those that 
depend on sight, leave the strongest impressions 
upon the mind. Who is there that cannot place 
before himself the scenes which delighted his 
childhood ? Within himself he finds the living 
picture. Hereis the old stone dwelling in which 



CONCEPTION. 151 

passed the joyous years of playful infancy and 
happy youth, there the long alleys, the scene of 
many a sportive frolic. Here the spreading 
willow and the grassy mound where he reclined 
with his books, conning the next day's task, or 
in later years with the chosen friend of youth ; 
yonder the village church where his thoughts 
first took devotional form, and the old bridge 
tottering over the stream that awoke the poetic 
fancy of his unskilful muse. The strength of 
such impressions is felt, when in the lapse of 
years the wanderer returns to the abode of his 
youth, and finds a modern edifice raised where 
once stood the home so endeared to fond re- 
membrance ; the trees, fallen under the axe, 
have made room for a gay parterre, the quiet 
stream now turns the machinery of a cotton 
manufactory, and a railroad conveys an innu- 
merable multitude through the groves and mea- 
dows, once the delightful scene of his solitary 
rambles. Conceptions, vivid as are here de- 
scribed, may be called the poetry of mind, and, 
when imagination makes them its own, com- 
bining them with unreal imagery, they become 
the foundation of the fine arts, and the subjects 
of taste. 

The conception of sensible objects greatly 
assist the mind in abstract study : in the cal- 
culation of numbers, figures and algebraic char- 



152 CONCEPTION. 

acters they fix the attention ; so do lines and 
circles in geometry. Problems, globes, orre- 
ries and maps are not only useful, but necessary 
to the learner, in the sciences of astronomy and 
geography ; and pictures give great assistance 
in teaching not only natural history, but the 
history of events. Of this any one may judge 
who has seen West's painting of the scene on 
Calvary. Allied to this kind of painting is the 
historical romance, drama, or epic poem. In 
these productions of the imagination, events 
and characters are made to pass before the eye 
of the mind, and so vivid is its conception of 
the difficulties, dangers and sorrows of persons 
long since removed from the scenes of earth, 
as to fill it with indignation and the heart with 
sympathy for those who are forever beyond 
their reach. 

Language is a sensible form given to thought, 
words being the signs or symbols of ideas, and 
may be used, as seen above, in such a manner 
as to produce correct knowledge and aid the 
truth, or so distort the truth, as to be to man- 
kind the most fruitful source of mischief. The 
eloquence of St. Paul, made Felix tremble on 
the judgment-seat, while he set in strong array 
before the mind of the unjust judge, the judg- 
ment to which he was soon to be called. Ora- 
tory is an outward expression, by words, of what 



CONCEPTION. 153 

passes through the mind of the orator, aided by 
the tones, the gestures and the varying coun- 
tenance. Thus are the thoughts or rather feel- 
ings of the soul pictured out more vividly than 
can be done on canvass or in writing ; for this 
is the imagery of nature itself, and thus does 
one mind impress itself upon other minds, so 
forcibly, that by it may they be turned to any 
purpose, good or evil. In this way did Peter 
the Hermit move all Europe to a sudden phrensy, 
and a countless multitude left their fair homes 
and transported themselves to distant lands, 
upon what now appears to us, a fruitless and 
foolish expedition. 

None but those who understand or feel their 
subject can write so as to make it understood 
or felt by others. In order to teach to good 
purpose, the instructor must have a distinct or 
clear conception of what he wishes to impress 
upon the minds of pupils ; and his language be 
adapted to the understanding of those he would 
instruct. Should he speak to children or to the 
unlearned in terms the meaning of which they 
have never learned, he might as well address 
them in an unknown tongue. In addressing 
such, language should be simple to suit their 
conceptions, not low or coarse, lest low or vul- 
gar conceptions be left upon their minds. The 
impressions made upon the infant mind by un- 



154 CONCEPTION. 

refined and ungrammatical language are never 
effaced : such terms are adopted by children in 
their own discourse, and in their associations 
with the fond endearments of first affection, 
become so strong a habit, that the utmost re- 
finement of education in after life never com- 
pletely wears it out. Language leaves not 
only its accustomed expression on the tongue, 
not only does it give a form to thought, but it 
gives or originates thought itself. The child or 
youth who is so circumstanced as to hear coarse 
or profane language, soon begins to use the 
same, and his thoughts take their colouring from 
his speech ; he becomes vulgar and profane. Of 
this we find a noticeable instance in one of the 
most refined nations of modern Europe. The 
careless or common use of the name of the Su- 
preme Being is remarkable among them. It is 
heard in all companies, on all occasions, by 
persons of every age and sex : whether occu- 
pied in business or in amusement, in devotion 
or in exclamation ; all use, solemnly or lightly, 
the same holy Name ; and perhaps in no coun- 
try is religion and its sacred obligatioas so little 
reverenced. 

The above observations tend to illustrate the 
force of habit. Habit is acquired by means of 
a frequent repetition of any one action bodily 
or mental ; its design in our natural constitution 



CONCEPTION. 155 

appears to be to enable us to do things, that in 
themselves are difficult without the labour of re- 
flection. Great labour and attention is indispen- 
sable on the part of the child in his first attempts 
to walk, and then how slow are his movements, 
although rapid motion in him is natural. Were 
it necessary through life to continue to exercise 
this same attention and care in walking, what 
inconvenience would it be to us, and what a 
hindrance in the daily routine of our affairs. 
How many things must be left undone, what 
little progress would be made in the business 
of a life that already seems too short for the 
work allotted it. Against this difficulty has our 
Creator provided in the constitution of mind as 
well as of body. The custom of turning the 
attention to any one subject of thought enables 
the mind after awhile to overcome any diffi- 
culty that may at first be perceived in the sub- 
ject ; and when at liberty, the mind naturally 
recurs to it, until the subject identifies itself, 
not pnly with the thoughts, but with the warm 
affections of the soul, and if pursued, becomes 
its absorbing passion. Thus the constant exer- 
cise of the imagination renders it so easy and 
agreeable, that persons give up a life-time to 
this operation of thought ; witness Lord Byron 
and Sir Walter Scott. The Waverley Novels 
alone comprise thirty-two different works. 



156 CONCEPTION. 

Some persons abandon themselves to the con- 
ceptions of forms and colours in objects, and to 
their distribution into groups ; some to the ar- 
rangement of harmonious sounds. The first 
are forever detecting irregularities and observing 
beauties ; they become painters or amateurs ; 
such persons might make a voyage to Europe 
for the sake of examining the productions of a 
Corregio or a RafTaelle. The latter would aban- 
don every other study for that of music, and 
might perhaps be brought to the choice of the 
country chorister, who declared that the per- 
formance of the minister was in point of impor- 
tance to be accounted after that of the choir. 
Others direct their attention to incongruous and 
ludicrous relations ; this habit becomes strong, 
perhaps because the emotion of laughter con- 
nected with it excites the vanity or self-conceit 
of the witty person ; so that in time he sees a 
witticism where another would perceive a sol- 
emn truth, and he is disposed to laugh, where 
those of sober judgment and moral feeling would 
weep. Such propensities "will not readily be 
restrained in the solemnities of public worship 
or of private devotion." 

It is comparatively easy to fix the mind on 
subjects connected with sensible objects, espe- 
cially on such as give delight to the imagination ; 
even the dead languages and the mathematical 



CONCEPTION. 157 

sciences are mastered by help of the signs of 
words and figures ; but in the studies that be- 
long to pure intellect is the effect of habit most 
noticeable. It is difficult to contemplate a sub- 
ject abstracted from all sensible objects, there- 
fore do such studies as are termed metaphysical, 
require the habit of patient and laborious atten- 
tion. To enter by reflection into one's own 
bosom, to bring one's own own thoughts in re- 
view, is no eas} r , but a most profitable labour. 
The act of meditation can be performed only 
after repeated trials ; it must become a habit of 
the mind. It was thus that David meditated 
in the night-watches with much delight ; seven 
times a day did he thus abstract his thoughts 
from the vanities which are found, even in roy- 
alty ; and raised his mind, and heart to Him, 
whose glories no eye has ever beheld, but whom 
the human intellect can conceive. Here is 
the true use of the understanding ; all its 
conceptions of harmony and beauty, all its so 
prized scientific abstractions, dwindle to nothing 
before man's ability to know himself and his 
Creator. Here indeed does the human intellect 
ally itself to that of superior natures. It may 
be that the Uncreated God has never made 
Himself visible to the highest spirits that sur- 
round His throne, but they conceive of Him 



158 CONCEPTION. 

from His ineffable glory, and veil their faces 
while they cry, Holy, Holy, Holy !* 

Though all are sensible that thought in a 
continued stream passes through the mind, yet 
all are not aware of the importance of directing 
it aright. A good deal of thought may be ex- 
pended on the selection of attire suitable for a 
ball-room, and the conception of such an ar- 
rangement might be in itself as perfect and ex- 
hibit as much good taste, as the conception a 
painter has of a historical picture, or the con- 
ception of an architect in the formation of a 
piece of mechanism, or the conception of a 
poet in the plot of a drama or the machinery of 
an Epic ; but these subjects of thought are not 
of equal importance, nor are any of them of the 
highest importance ; none of them compare with 
the plans we might devise for the happiness of 
those around us, or with the considerations that 
relate to our duties as moral and immortal crea- 
tures. When we consider that the intellect, 
vast enough to conceive immensity, sufficiently 
active to return to the beginnings of all things, 
to descend along the tracts of time, connecting 
the chain of past and present events, and able 
to penetrate into the future ; that this intellect 
which measures itself with the mighty minds 
* Note G. 



CONCEPTION. 159 

of past and present existence, is ours : ours, 
either to waste, as will directs, upon the trifles, 
lighter than a feather of the passing moment, 
or to turn upon subjects of useful or of lofty im- 
port ; we must tremble in view of such respon- 
sibility. 

My young friends, the power you have of 
perceiving and of thinking is bestowed upon you 
by the Eternal Mind. Holy Writ has said 
" there is a spirit in man, and the inspiration 
of the Almighty giveth them understanding." 
Job 27, 8. Nor only is understanding given, 
sufficient to enable you to conceive objects in 
their variety, beauty, extent and utility, but 
you are capable of directing your knowledge to 
useful purposes. Not only able by the percep- 
tions of sense to conceive of material things, so, 
that your existence may be rendered useful and 
happy ; but by the higher endowments of intel- 
lect, you are enabled to look at your own imma- 
terial nature, to fathom the depths of thought 
in your own bosoms : still more, you are ren- 
dered capable of reaching in your conception 
the Infinite and Eternal Intelligence. You 
cannot indeed comprehend the nature of His 
existence, nor understand the wisdom of His 
Providence, but you may look at the glories 
of His Grace in the Gospel of His Son. Here, 
to understand, to believe, and to adore, is the 



160 MEMORY. 

highest direction of your intellectual souls ; for 
the object of your being was thus to show forth 
the glory of your Creator. Oh, if intellect so 
amazing be not directed to its highest purpose, 
who can tell, how it may be employed, when, 
divested of all sensible resource, it shall be left 
to the strongest conception of its moral and 
irremediable degradation ! 



CHAPTER VII. 

MEMORY. 



My young friends, in placing before you 
illustrations of some of the leading facts that 
belong to this branch of study, I would but draw 
you to a deeper research, and induce you to 
read such works as may give you better assist- 
ance in the developement of the understanding 
and the formation of character. 

We have already shown that the soul of man 
is a created and free intelligence, brought by its 
union with the body into a world filled with an 
immense variety of objects ; here relations innu- 
merable exist between matter and its proper- 
ties, between these objects and mind itself; 
between mind and mind, between this world 
and worlds conceived. The perceptive power 



MEMORY. 161 

of the intellect naturally beholds whatever is 
presented to its observation, but the multitude 
of objects and of truths thus presented, would 
pass before it, as the figures of a phantasma- 
goria flit before the eye, appearing for a mo- 
ment and disappearing forever, were not some 
of them arrested by attention, and retained for 
future use by memory. The intelligence of the 
mind and its power of conception would be 
useless, had it no ability to retain knowledge 
thus acquired, and impressions thus received. 

It is sometimes asserted that persons of strong 
imaginative or reasoning power, such as Shaks- 
peare and Franklin, are deficient in remem- 
brance ; but how can this be ? How can 
the mind weave its own fancies into realities 
unless the imagery vividly impressed upon the 
conception be also engraved upon the memory t 
How could a man like Franklin or Newton carry 
on a train of reasoning drawn from some simple 
fact, without remembering, not only what he 
had noticed, but also his own reflections on the 
fact, together with a multitude of similar ob- 
servations ? The power which retains intellec- 
tual perceptions must be much greater than that 
which holds merely the ideas derived from the 
objects of the senses ; for such ideas are per- 
petually returned by association to the mind. 

The person who remembers the conceptions of 
11 



162 MEMORY. 

the pure intellect, has without doubt a better 
memory than one who can fix the event to every 
date in a chronological table, or he who can 
repeat every word of a .discourse he has heard 
pronounced. 

That exercise of attention concerned in 
committing to memory, words, which are only 
the symbols of thought, cannot be as laborious 
and as profitable to the mind as attention exer- 
cised in combining, arranging and treasuring up 
thought itself. Intellect thus employed may, 
and probably will, draw from its own stores, 
wealth more precious than the jewels of the 
East, and enrich the world with knowledge, 
enduring as time itself. How do such men as 
Newton and Franklin, Dr. Paley and Bishop 
Butler compare with Magliabecchi, who, after 
having perused a manuscript could write down 
every word, without even forgetting the pecu- 
liarities of the spelling ? He was a walking 
library, most convenient for authors to consult, 
but what were the fruits of such labours ? he 
wrote and published a catalogue ! Or how do 
they compare with Longuerue, who at the age 
of fourteen, was already acquainted with all the 
dead languages, as well as the modern ones of 
Europe, commenced the Oriental, and who in the 
facts belonging to History, Chronology and 
Geography was the oracle of Paris ? Of his 



MEMORY. 163 

labours remain a Latin dissertation and a his- 
torical description of France, written very inac- 
curately from memory. These works and the 
memorial of the above remarkable men flourish 
in the records of a biographical Dictionary,* 
while the discoveries of Newton and Franklin, 
the reasonings of Paley and Butler, will furnish 
subjects for the further operations of thought 
most important, as long as the conception and 
memory of things terrestrial endure. 

Upon observation we find that the ideas 
retained by the memory of some, are not so 
retained by others, as in the above instances. 
Some remember objects, places and names ; 
others events and dates ; others again facts and 
observations, or causes and effects. Coleridge 
says of himself, " I have read all the famous 
histories, and, I believe some history of every 
country and nation that is, or ever existed, but 
I never did so for the story itself as a story. 
The only thing interesting to me was the prin- 
ciples to be evolved from and illustrated by the 
facts. After I had gotten my principles, I pretty 
generally left the facts to take care of themselves. 
I could never remember any passages in books, 
or the particulars of events, except in the gross. 
I can refer to them. To be sure I must be a 

* Dictionnaire Historique par une societe des gens des 
lettres. 



164 MEMORY. 

different sort of man from Herder, who once 
was seriously annoyed with himself, because in 
recounting the pedigree of some German or 
electoral family, he missed one of those worthies 
and could not recall the name." But to account 
for this we have only to call to mind what has 
been noticed of conception, for memory is only 
the faculty of retaining the thoughts, or impres- 
sions of the mind. The feelings or affections rule 
over those operations of mind that depend on the 
will ; whatever affects us either painfully or the 
contrary, draws and fixes the attention ; the con- 
ception of it becomes vivid, the remembrance for 
a while continued, and the recollection easy. 

Memory perhaps may be considered an ori- 
ginal power of the mind, employed in recording 
the knowledge gained by its perceptions : but 
the record is not always present to the percep- 
tive faculty. When held there by the continu- 
ance of some emotion, or otherwise, it is termed 
remembrance ; when brought up by reflection, 
or by habit, it is called recollection or reminis- 
cence. Thus it may be seen that memory, in 
itself, is an involuntary state of the mind, and 
the expression, inscribed on the tablets of mem- 
ory is figuratively correct : but remembrance 
and recollection are voluntary actions of the 
memory, when they depend on attention and 
habit ; when on the association of accidental 



MEMORY. 165 

causes, involuntary. Hence it is supposed by 
some who have written on this subject that the 
mind never loses its hold on any idea brought 
to it by perception. This supposition is founded 
in the nature of mind itself, being immaterial 
and immortal, and seems to be substantiated 
by the observation of facts. 

Dreams frequently bring back scenes, per- 
sons, and even thoughts, which for years have 
seemed forgotten. It is related of James I. of 
England, that when seated on the throne of that 
kingdom, he was once terrified in a dream by 
the frowning countenance of his tutor Buchanan, 
whom in his imagination he vainly endeavoured 
to pacify. The case of persons who have been 
rescued from drowning is remarkable. During 
the short period of consciousness that under the 
water precedes insensibility, it is said that the 
conceptions of the mind are recalled with ama- 
zing vividness. The beauties of field and sky, 
the song of birds, the voices and countenances 
of friends, with the actions of their past lives pre- 
sent themselves to the drowning person in great 
minuteness. Many instances of this nature are 
on record, but the experience of almost every 
one, at some period of life, will testify to the fact, 
that delirium, or dreams, or association will bring 
to mind events and feelings that for years have 
slumbered in the recesses of the memory. 



166 MEMORY. 

Coleridge said when near his end, " I am 
dying. Is it not strange that very recently, 
by-gone images and scenes of early life have 
stolen into my mind, like breezes blown from 
the spice-islands of youth and hope.* 

The recollection or remembrance may be in 
our power, but forgetfulness is not. One offered 
to teach Themistocles the art of memory, but 
this he refused, saying he would rather he should 
teach him to forget. It is related of a person 
that the continual recurrence of a profane ex- 
pression which came to his mind associated in 
Divine service with the name of God, so dis- 
turbed him as to cause madness. We may 
turn our attention from a subject, and thus dis- 
miss it for a time, but memory retains what has 
once been impressed on the mind, and associa- 
tion will probably, at some future time, recall it. 

The mind receives and retains impressions 
or ideas involuntarily, but attention is the vol- 
untary action that directs it more especially to 
one object or subject than to another. As an 
illustration of this, let us suppose that two 
young persons of different taste, attend some 
agreeable assemblage, and afterwards narrate 
to a party of their friends what they have ob- 
served and recollect. One describes with mi- 
nuteness all the ceremonies of the introduction ; 

* Table Talk. 



MEMORY. 167 

also the colours, the materials, and the fashion 
of the dress of each assistant, not omitting to 
tell the particular kind of ornament, whether 
pearls, topaz or diamond worn by each lady. 
She will recollect a smile bestowed upon one, 
a bow upon another, a word upon a third ; while 
the friend who accompanied her to this enter- 
tainment brings home very little, except the re- 
membrance of some animated discussion be- 
tween two persons of eminence on a subject ap- 
pertaining to science or morality. Of this per- 
haps she will be able to recollect much of what 
was said by each speaker, together with the 
accompanying tones and gestures. 

In the first case we have the recollections of 
a common or vain mind, in the second those of 
one that is intellectual. The perceptions of the 
first being altogether sensitive, have left upon 
her mind the conceptions of beauty, magnifi- 
cence and fashion ; the most interesting of in- 
tellectual or moral topics would not have with- 
drawn her attention from the splendour that 
surrounded her ; but the cultivated mind of the 
other dwelt so slightly on these things, that the 
recollection, whether the lady who sat next her 
wore feathers or flowers, pearls or diamonds, 
might have been very indistinct. Both these 
young persons have the powers of perception, 
of memory, and of association ; but the mind of 



168 MEMORY. 

the one is coarse and sensitive, that of the other 
refined and intellectual. The attention of each 
was directed to such objects as most interested 
her, and conceptions in accordance were im- 
pressed upon their memories, so that recollec- 
tion brought them forth in detail. 

Emotion, as we have already seen, is the 
foundation of attention, therefore whenever we 
are strongly interested in any thing we rarely 
forget it. The man who wrote in his memo- 
randum book, " Note: I must be married when 
I come to Tours," had very little affection for 
or aversion to his intended wife. Montaigne, 
when complaining of his forge tfulness says, " I 
am forced to call the men who serve me by the 
names of their offices ; it has befallen me to 
forget where I had put my purse." A mother 
would scarcely forget the name of her child, 
neither would a miser forget where he had put 
his purse. Bat Montaigne as we find in his 
history,* thought much of himself and his plea- 
sures, and probably knew his cook and valet 
better in their professional characters, than as 
men ; and as it appears, he was too careless of 
his expenditures to be careful of his purse. 
Though a learned man, and a great philoso- 
pher, he speaks much of himself, and seems 

* Essai Historique sur la vie des moralistes modernes. 



MEMORY. 169 

to make a boast of his indolence, his aversion 
to restraint, and his want of memory. 

Influenced by emotion, men of genius, as we 
have already seen, while considering the faculty 
of conception, fasten their attention on the sub- 
jects that are to them of absorbing interest ; 
these are the objects of their remembrance and 
recollection. They keep not a " chronology of 
events, but of emotions," and disregard what- 
ever is interesting to the common mind : hence 
in many matters they are less accurate than 
those, who not susceptible of such emotions, 
consider common things of sufficient importance 
to treasure in their memories. This, in the 
learned, will account for that mental aberation 
called absence of mind. Of Newton it was 
said that he was sometimes at a loss when spoken 
to on the subject of his own discoveries ; his 
mind was so occupied with present and new 
ideas, that he found it difficult when taken by 
surprise to recall what he had formerly thought 
and written. Archimedes was so absorbed 
in his studies that he could not be made to 
comprehend the danger of resisting the desires 
of the soldiers, to go with them, and thereby 
lost his life. 

But forgetfulness or absence of mind is not 
always a mark of genius, or even a sign that 
the mind is running on matters of importance. 



170 MEMORY. 

A gentleman, one day after dinner ordered his 
horse to the door for a ride, in the meantime 
going to his sleeping apartment to change his 
coat. In drawing off his coat he proceeded to 
the associated circumstance of disrobing alto- 
gether, and then put himself deliberately into 
bed, where his family at the ,tea hour found him 
enjoying most refreshing slumber, while the 
poor horse had passed the afternoon tied at a 
post. Mrs. D. one morning descended to the 
kitchen to make a pudding, but after placing 
the flour and milk upon the table she recollected 
that the eggs were up-stairs in the pantry. The 
lady re-ascended the stairs, obtained the eggs, 
descended again and beat them to a froth. The 
thought then occurred that sugar was a neces- 
sary ingredient ; the sugar was also in the pan- 
try, then a second journey up the stairs, and 
oh provoking,"' when all was ready for the oven, 
the nutmeg demanded another visit to the pan- 
try ! At her third and rather impatient entrance 
into the parlour, Mr. D. who had watched the 
movements of his young wife, now looked up 
smiling from his book ; " what are you thinking 
of this morning my dear, said he, that makes 
you so forgetful?" " Nothing at all" was her 
answer. This was true forgetfulness in her — 
was not the effect of thought, but want of thought. 
The connection between the emotions, atten- 



MEMORY. 171 

tion and memory, is seen in the recollections of 
the aged. The events of their early years 
readily occur to them, while those that hap- 
pened yesterday, or the week before, fade en- 
tirely from their minds, and the reason is evi- 
dent ; in youth every object having the charm, 
of novelty makes a strong and lively impres- 
sion. In after life this charm is lost, for curi- 
osity has but little upon which to fix itself; lit- 
erally, there is no new thing to the mind, familiar 
with all. It is extremely difficult for the aged 
to form new associations ; hence they take but 
little interest in events transpiring around them, 
or in persons almost strangers to their hearts ; 
the mind alternating between two points, is 
absorbed either by the transactions of early 
years or in contemplating the rapidly closing 
scenes of life. 

In the decline of life to keep the memory 
bright and strong, the active exercise of mental 
and moral power is necessary. The love of 
literature or of fame will of itself be a sufficient 
motive, as in the case of Voltaire, who continued 
to write tragedies in his eightieth year. Sir 
Isaac Newton who died in his eighty-fifth year, 
presided two months previous to his death, over 
the Royal Society, going to London, though in 
feeble health, for the purpose. Two days be- 
fore his death he read the newspaper and car- 



172 MEMORY. 

ried on a long conversation, when all his senses 
and faculties were strong and vigorous.* The 
examples of strong mental power, at advanced 
age, in those who continue to cultivate a taste 
for literary pursuits through life, are too nume- 
rous to leave any doubt of the above statement. 
And this is particularly remarkable in those 
whose minds are under the influence of virtuous 
or pious emotions. No decay in memory andjudg- 
ment is noticed of Franklin or of Washington, 
but their active pursuits never came to a stand ; 
they identified themselves with their country ; 
plans of benevolence and good were before 
them, while the lamp of life was wasting in the 
socket. John Jay, who died about ten years 
ago in his eighty-fourth year, was one of the 
brightest ornaments of our country, and said 
by Lord Chatham to be among the finest pro- 
ductions of the master states of the world. The 
intellectual and moral endowments of his per- 
fectly well-balanced mind, were of the first 
order, never clouded by prejudice nor ruffled 
by passion. He feared and he loved God, and 
in all his doings manifested a love for His glory.t 
He did not indeed at eighty write a tragedy, 
but he was chosen President of the Bible Soci- 
ety, and presided over it until he had nearly fin- 

* Life of Sir 1. Newton, by Brewster. 
t Sermon preached by Dr. Hawes. 



MEMORY. 173 

ished his earthly career. " Then he sunk qui- 
etly to rest, full of years and full of honour. 
He stood among the living in the evening of his 
days, as the venerable patriarch of another age, 
revered and loved by all who knew him." A 
French writer* says that few men like Voltaire 
are poets at eighty, but almost all are dotards ; 
but a later observer of mankind has said, " The 
individual who has led a life of temperance, 
morality and activity, is rewarded by a green 
old age, in which the decay of the powers is 
so slow as to be almost imperceptible ;" also, 
"if we hope to send forth corruscations of mind 
in advanced age, we must charge the electric 
battery in the prime of life."f 

Instances in our own sex are not wanting to 
prove the truth of the above position. Mrs. 
Elizabeth Bury who lived to the age of seventy- 
eight, eminent for her learning as well as piety, 
maybe cited among others as an example worthy 
the imitation of those young in years. It is 
related of her that she had a fine understanding, 
accompanied with a very faithful and retentive 
memory, and soon became a proficient in what- 
ever part of knowledge she was desirous to 
attain. She applied herself to History, Philos- 

* Physique de La Femme. f Dr. J. Johnson, 

Economy of Health., 



174 MEMORY. 

ophy, Philology and Mathematics ; also to the 
Languages, ancient and modern. In the He- 
brew she was quite a critic, as remarks upon 
the peculiarities in that language found among 
her papers shew. Her piety was in corres- 
pondence with the strength of her mental qual- 
ities ; and the study in which she most delighted 
was the Bible. Through a long life her excel- 
lencies shone out more and more, among an ex- 
tensive circle of friends and relatives, and her 
biographer testifies, that the clearness of her 
thought, the vigour of her mind and the strength 
of her memory continued to the last. 

It is said of Lady Huntingdon that her per- 
son, endowments and spirit were all uncom- 
mon. During forty-five years of widowhood, 

she devoted her time, talents and sustenance to 

i 

the support and diffusion of the Gospel, and to 
the age of fourscore and upwards, for she died 
when eighty-four, she maintained all the vigour 
of youth. On the very day of her death she 
conversed of sending missionaries to Tahiti. 
Dr. Lettsom, who attended her death-bed writes, 
" Let us be thankful that she was preserved to 
advanced age with the perfect exercise of her 
mental faculties. How often have we seen her, 
elevated above the earth and earthly things, 
uttering this language : " My work is done, I 



MEMORY. 175 

have nothing to do but to go to my heavenly 
Father."* 

Mrs. Isabella Graham, of memory dear to 
many ladies, still living witnesses to her worth 
as an instructress, enjoyed in the labours of 
active benevolence the full use of her mental 
powers till death. In her seventy-second year, 
the year of her death, she formed an adult 
Sabbath School in the village of Greenwich. 
Shortly before her death she collected and tran- 
scribed in a little book, portions of Scripture 
and favorite hymns ; these she committed to 
memory and called them to remembrance as 
songs in the night when sleep forsook her. 
Mrs. Hawkes, whose memoirs are so admirably 
presented to us by the daughter of the excellent 
Cecil, preserved the brightness of her intellect 
through a long life, nearly made up of intense 
suffering, but in the midst of these sufferings 
her labors for the good of others, either in 
conversation or in writing were indefatigable. 
Speaking of her weakness of body she says, 
" I find this state of extreme exhaustion very 
trying and unhinging to my mind ; which through 
mercy is yet vigorous, and longs to be on the 
wing, while its heavy companion bears it down. 
What a mercy that the load is on the body, and 
not on the soul ! What a favour that I can say, 

* Memoirs of Pious Females. 



176 MEMORY. 

though my natural strength be departed, the. 
Lord is not departed from me : He is my strength 
and my song, and my portion forever." 

Here is the true philosophy of mental opera- 
tion. The soul was formed in the image of its 
Maker, and only when assimilating itself to the 
Father of Spirits does it approach the perfec- 
tion of its nature. Without memory knowledge 
would be nothing to the mind. Indeed what 
would be the intellect without the power to retain ? 
not intellect, but idiocy. " To preserve the past 
is half of immortality." Memory is thus de- 
scribed by the old and admired poet, Spencer : 

" That chamber seemed ruinous and old, 
And therein sat an old, old man : half blind 
And all decrepid in his feeble corse, 
Yet lively vigor rested in his mind. 

This man of infinite remembrance was ; 
And things foregone through many ages held, 
Which he recorded, still as they did pass, 
Nor suffered them to perish through long eld, 
A9 all things else, the which this world doth weld, 
But laid them up in his immortal serine, 
Where they forever uncorrupted dwell'd." 

Memory preserves to us not only all the re- 
cords of time from its creation to the present 
moment, but also all the inventions and labours 
of the human intellect; without it we could 
have no knowledge at all, for in that case the 
mind would be like a sheet of paper, upon 



MEMORY. 17 V 

which objects are thrown through a camera ob- 
scura,- — withdraw the objects, and nothing re- 
mains. The memory like the Daguerotype 
makes perceptions the property of the intellect; 
and thus, even here, does man begin his im- 
mortality. 

But we have seen that this part of our im- 
mortality depends much upon ourselves, for 
though possessed of mental power, the proper 
use of it is our own effort. Many persons sink 
down into inaction of mind through criminal 
indolence, for it is indeed criminal to spend 
hours and days as Rousseau did in waking 
dreams, in idle reveries, which he acknowledges 
he could not recall. The case of Rousseau is 
the case of multitudes in the early and most 
important season of life. It is to be feared that 
many a student, like the theatrical performer, 
mentioned by Dr. Abercrombie, prepares his 
lesson only for the occasion. This actor being 
called upon suddenly to take the place of an- 
other who had fallen sick, learned the part in a 
very short time with great accuracy, but imme- 
diately after the performance forgot every word 
of it. This was done verbatim, through the 
power of associating words with each other ; 
for he declared that while speaking he thought 
of nothing but the pages of the book. Every 

student who is in the habit of committing ver- 
12 



178 MEMORY. 

batim, or by rote, as it is sometimes called, 
knows what this is ; and many a one thus re- 
cites lesson after lesson, from the mere habit of 
association, without any other exercise of the 
mind concerned in it. The result is, that what- 
ever truth may have been delivered by the pupil 
to the teacher, none at all has been perceived 
by his own understanding. 

The habit of thus associating and remem- 
bering words, dates, names and even figures 
becomes very strong, but it is doubtful whether 
this kind of memory answers the best purpose 
in the cultivation of mind. No labour is per- 
haps more difficult than the la,bour of thinking; 
and many a pupil is more willing to commit to 
the keeping of his memory, a multitude of words, 
which he does by the exercise of repetition, 
rather than by the difficult work of reflection 
on the facts and truths contained in his lesson, 
fasten them upon his understanding, and thus 
upon his memory. In truth, much greater care 
and labour is required on the part of the teacher 
to instruct under standingly, than to exercise the 
memory in verbatim repetition ; and consider- 
able discrimination on his part is necessary to 
distinguish the merit of the boj 7 ", who with stam- 
mering slowness, brings out facts in his own 
bungling language, while his flippant classmate 
with ready recollection and fluent tongue, runs 



MEMORY. 179 

over a page in the words of the author. It is 
probable that this way of cultivating the mem- 
ory does injury to the intellectual powers. Per- 
sons who thus exercise themselves in the re- 
membrance of words, often make good linguists, 
but are rarely men of invention. Sometime 
ago, a young man was noticed at a boarding- 
house table, pale, emaciated and entirely silent. 
After some time the company discovered in him 
a great linguist. He had studied all the dead 
languages, most or all the European, and was 
then applying himself to the Chinese. With 
all these tongues he very rarely spoke a word, 
and it could not be ascertained that he used lan- 
guage in any other way than in the employment 
as compositor in a printing-office. 

Zerah Colburn from a child had an aston- 
ishing faculty of remembering the associations of 
numbers, but we do not find that in after life his 
mental powers, though respectable, were much 
superior to those of other men. It may be that 
this case and some others similar, do not come 
under the laws of emotion, association or habit. 
Cyrus the Great is often mentioned among the 
men of remarkable memory. He could, it is 
asserted call every man in his army by name ; 
but might not this ready recollection have been 
induced by attention and habit f Historians 
represent Cyrus as one of the kindest as well 



ISO MEMORY. 

as the most polite men of ancient days. What w 
a greater mark of attention to personsthan the 
remembrance of their names and circumstances ? 
Coleridge it is said was remarkably deficient in 
the technical memory of words, yet so great 
was his love for the Scriptures, that he could 
repeat from memory much of Isaiah. He studied 
that part of Scripture with unremitting atten- 
tion and reverential awe.* 

Jerome of Prague also affords an instance of 
this kind of remembrance turned to good ac- 
count. Before his martyrdom, he was confined 
three hundred aad forty days in the bottom of 
a dark tower, where it was impossible for him 
to read, yet when called to his trial, he quoted 
as many testimonies of the most learned men 
in favor of his own principles, as if in that time 
he had been confined to a good library and 
favoured with every convenience for study. 

The importance of correct remembrance and 
ready recollection is seen every day in our lives. 
Sad mistakes sometimes arise from forgetful- 
ness in the common affairs of life, for our daily 
duties are, after all, those which should be most 
faithfully remembered. To forget our friends, 
our households and our Maker, would give sad 
evidence that our thoughts were but little occu- 
pied with them. La Fontaine, a noted French 

* Table Talk. 



MEMORY. 181 

poet, was remarkable for this carelessness. He 
was absorbed in his own imaginings, and his 
biographer remarks that this emotion took from 
him his memory and judgment. Sometime after 
having attended the burial of one of his friends, 
he called to visit him. At first he was shocked 
at the information of his death, but recovering 
from his surprise, he observed, it is true enough, 
for now I recollect having attended his funeral. 
At another time being in company, he much 
admired a young man who was present, •■fit- 
is your son," said some one of the persons pre- 
sent. '• I am glad of it," answered La Fontaine, 
This same indolent carelessness, say his me- 
moirs,* rendered him inattentive to the worship 
of God and the duties of religion. It is to be 
feared that many a one without the plea of poetry , 
or even of mathematics, is equally negligent of the 
common duties of social life, and. of religion ; and 
happy will it be, if, as is said of this poet, such 
should wake to repentance before it be too late. 

Many artificial helps have been contrived for 
the cultivation of the memory, but nature itself 
points out to the observing mind the best direc- 
tions. Children easily learn words, their minds 
not being so capable of exercising the reasoning 
or imaginative powers ; but persons as they 

* Dictioooaire Historique. 



182 MEMORY. 

advance in age do not readily learn by rote, 
because the ripened intellect is more con- 
cerned in abstraction, judgment and imagina- 
tion. Childhood, therefore, and early youth, 
should be employed in acquiring such knowedge 
as may be got by the repetition of words, and 
by the use of figures or signs. In infancy poetic 
numbers help to fix much useful truth upon the 
mind. Witness the poetry of Dr. Watts, Mrs. 
Barbauld and others. Children easily learn 
languages, events and dates ; this sort of study 
then is most proper at that period, and if their 
attention be not divided among an incongruous 
variety of studies, it is wonderful how much 
they may learn of what belongs to language, 
and to facts. By the skilful association and 
combination of words, they will soon come at 
the meaning of the terms most used in their 
own language ; also at the prominent facts that 
belong to History, Geography and Chronology ; 
together with some of the easier branches of Nat- 
ural Science, as well as the dead and foreign Lan- 
guages. " It is, said Montaigne, without doubt 
a fine accomplishment to understand Latin and 
Greek, but it is bought too dear ; we labour 
much to fill up the memory, and leave the un- 
derstanding and conscience empty." Should 
this be so, the accomplishment would indeed 



MEMORY. 183 

be bought too dear, but one of these positions 
does not necessarily involve the other. 

Young persons as well as others should cul- 
tivate a habit of attention to things useful in 
themselves. The most cultivated minds do not 
disdain to enquire of those much below them 
in attainment. This was notable in a learned 
Professor of one of our most eminent literary 
Institutions. Though Professor of languages, 
he often spent time in making enquiries of a 
farmer respecting the best method and time for 
planting and sowing his fields, and never did he 
neglect to obtain any information that might ben- 
efit himself or others. This he laid up in his 
memory and used when opportunity required, 
for this gentleman, who will long be held in 
grateful remembrance, had a most benevolent 
disposition, and this was the secret of his attention 
to matters beside his Latin and Greek. He 
loved mankind, he loved the cause of Christ, and 
and nothing that could be beneficial to men or 
subservient to religion, passed by him unno- 
ticed, or was considered unworthy of his re- 
membrance. 

Correct associations of things and ideas in all 
their relations should be carefully cultivated ; 
thus will they best be remembered and after- 
wards be brought up by recollection, for mem- 
ory and recollection depend much upon asso- 



184 MEMORY. 

ciation. This perhaps may be better explained 
in another place. Correct and clear concep- 
tions also much assist the memory ; indeed, 
memory as we have already seen, is of little 
use, if the understanding be not concerned in it- 
Whatever is clearly conceived will be readily 
remembered, therefore those have the best mem- 
ories who understand and reason best, who have 
order and method in their thoughts. Persons 
who do not notice attentively, who do not con- 
ceive strongly, who do not reason correctly, or 
keep not their thoughts in such a train as order 
and conscience demand, make but a poor use 
of the mental power entrusted to diem. Such 
persons will be thinking of one thing and 
doing another, they will remember what they 
should forget, and forget what they should re- 
member. 

To no branch of science are we more inat- 
tentive than to the one now before us, that which 
treats of the operations of our own minds ; and 
no where are we less inclined to look to the 
operations of God, the Father of Spirits, than 
within ourselves. We see the grass springing 
up and the trees putting forth their leaves and 
buds ; we look at the bright sun and the beau- 
tiful, ever varying clouds, and exclaim, 

" These are Thy works, Parent of Good !" 

Strange, that when thoughts flow within us, 



MEMORY. 185 

a constant stream, when memoiy preserves and 
treasures up, more carefully than does the 
miser his gold and silver, the knowledge that else 
would float away as bubbles are borne off by 
the noisy rapid ; when emotions prompt us, 
now to one object, now to another ; while rea- 
son and conscience, shine like the moon and 
the sun about our pathway ; strange that seeing 
all this within us, we do not perceive whose 
workmanship we are ! These our bodies might 
have been joined to ideotic souls, the senses 
serving as organs of perception, with very little 
intellectual process within ; such would be the 
mind without conception and emotion. Or like 
3'on lake in a calm summer's morning, reflecting 
the trees and houses upon its banks, and the 
splendour of the changing skies ; the slightest 
ripple on its surface effaces them all ; so would 
the mind be without memory. Let us return 
thanks to our Heavenly Parent that we, more 
noble than the elements from which we are 
formed, carry a world within us ; that we are 
fearfully and wonderfully made. But while con- 
templating such intellectual treasure, let us be- 
ware of pleading, as did the Roman of old, it is 
too much, we cannot use it.* Should we do 

* Julius Atticus, a noble Roman, but poor, discovered 
a treasure buried under an old house. The equitable 
Nerva who filled the Emperial throne refused, though the 



186 MEMORY. 

this, the enemy sloth might reply as did Nerva, 
" abuse it then" : and this abuse might be turned 
to a fearful judgment. Are we sure that we 
might not during life be left to the recollection 
of things that profit us nothing ? or can we be 
certain that some tormenting remembrance, as 
in the case of the person who had a profane 
thought perpetually brought to him by memory, 
may not destroy our peace and produce insan- 
ity ? Or by neglecting to cultivate correct 
habits of thought, how do we know that we 
may not fall into listlessness, distressing absence 
or wandering of mind, and finally into a sort of 
childishness, a half idiocy, rendering us, before 
old age fairly overtakes us, useless in society, 
the sport of the young, and fit objects of ridi- 
cule and pity? In these sacred words, let each 
one pray, " Teach me O Lord, give me under- 
standing. Turn away mine eyes from beholding 
vanity. Teach me good judgment and know- 
ledge. Thy hands have made me and fashioned 
me : give me understanding, that I may learn Thy 
commandments." Thus prayed David, who be- 
ing taught of God, " forgot not His precepts, and 
had more understanding than all his teachers." 

law gave him the right, to take any part of ir. Atticus 
insisted that it was too considerable for a subject, he did 
not know how to use it. Abuse it then said Nerva, for it 
is your own. 



MEMORY. 187 

The subject before us is one of intense inte- 
rest. The powers of perception, conception 
and memory belong to mind alone. The ob- 
jects of the senses are gone perhaps forever, 
but the conceptions produced by these objects 
or by truth which has been presented, are in- 
delibly engraven by memory upon the imper- 
ishable intellect ; not like inscriptions upon 
Egyptian monuments, which stand the revolu- 
tion of thousands of centuries ; memory keeps 
the records of time throughout eternal ages. 
The reminiscences of the aged go back to the 
earliest dawn of reason. The delirium of the 
sick brings up words and feelings upon which 
the mind seemed to have held but feebly* 
The death-bed, ah that indeed isa " detector 
of the heart," for, 

"treacherous conscience, while she seems to sleep 
On rose and myrtle, lull'd with syren song ; 

See from behind her secret stand 
The sly informer minutes every fault, 
And her dread diary with horror fills. 
Not the gross act alone employs her pen; 
She reconnoitres fancy's fairy band. 
Our dawning purposes of heart explores, 
And steals our embryos of iniquity. 
Unnoted, notes each moment misapplied 
In leaves more durable than leaves of brass, 
Writes our whole history, which death shall read 

* Note H. 



188 MEMORY. 

In every pale delinquent's private ear, 
And judgment publish."* 

Yes, judgment publish, for the sacred Word 
assures us that for " every idle word that men 
shall speak they shall give account in the day 
of judgment." Where or how is this account 
kept . ? We know not unless the memory, God's 
own record within to the mind, faithfully retains 
it. Let us see to it that the memory records 
not what shall in the years of the future, crim- 
son the cheek with a blush of shame, as recol- 
lection, a true, but often an unwilling witness, 
brings it to the tribunal of conscience. f 

Above all, my dear pupils, let me exhort you 
to turn your attention now to such subjects as 
maj r profit your immortal spirits. Let the most 
important truths be those in which you partic- 
ularly delight, so that when the objects of earth 
give but a shadowy trace to the dimmed eye, 
when the strains of sweetest music awake no 
corresponding emotions in the mind, when rea- 
son tottering on its throne ceases to form 
conceptions even of the relations dearest 
to the soul on earth ; then may the page of 
memory hold up one truth, written as with a 
sunbeam, and glowing in the light of Truth 
Eternal, " God in Christ is mine, and I am His." 

* Young's Night Thoughts. f Note I. 



ASSOCIATION. 189 

* 

CHAPTER VIII. 

ASSOCIATION. 

In this study, my friends, your attention must 
be continually called to yourselves. In the light 
of consciousness alone can you, perceive the 
phenomena of mental philosophy. Examine 
yourselves then, as we pass from subject to 
subject, and see, whether the facts of conscious- 
ness do not correspond with what are here pre- 
sented. 

Let us suppose that, after the lapse of years, 
we return to the place where our childhood was 
passed. There is the old family mansion, but 
the forms that occupied it are at rest in the 
tomb, though as we enter, they seem to start 
out into life and being before the mind. The 
dear aged mother is again seated in the very 
chair that supported her form when living; her 
ready smile beams upon the mind's eye, the 
fond words she has spoken vibrate on the heart 
strings. We walk through the village ; yonder 
school-house carries us back to the tasks we in 
childhood unwillingly learned, the master sits 
at the deserted desk, and through every broken 
pane of the lone building we see the flaxen locks 
and the laughing eyes of our former merry com- 
panions. Under that elm-tree where the sheep 



190 ASSOCIATION. 

are now grazing, we hear the frolic voices and 
go over again the sports that once were so de- 
lightful. 

Wherefore do these images of things so long 
unthought of float before the mind ? Why now 
does the remembrance of joys that are past 
come like sweet strains of music " pleasant and 
mournful to the soul ?" It is because the mind 
has the power of associating things present, 
with things past and absent, and the objects 
that now present themselves to the senses bring 
to its perceptions, objects, that have long lain 
like things disregarded in the memory. 

This associating power in the mind is brought 
into action by a variety of circumstances. Re- 
semblance is one. The countenance of a stran- 
ger will recall to us that of a friend ; so a scene 
in a foreign land will forcibly remind us of home. 
The sound of the church bell at St. Helena drew 
tears from the eyes of Napoleon, for it recalled 
to him the quiet and happy season of his boy- 
hood, in his own native island. A young woman 
found herself among strangers, in sickness and 
sorrow, without sympathy, and without care. 
Her mind naturally strong, bore up under mis- 
fortune until she was carried to the hospitable 
dwelling of a person who commiserated her. 
Looking up, half fainting after her removal, at 
the bed-side, she beheld a lady in middle life, 



ASSOCIATION. 191 

ministering, with affectionate looks to her wants* 
The curtained bed and the comfortable apart- 
ment caught her eye ; she burst into a pas- 
sionate fit of weeping, and seizing the stranger 
lady's hand exclaimed, " home and my mother 
too !" 

Thus also, it is that the mind compares, and 
traces analogies between objects and subjects. 
Life is compared to a day. Youth the morning, 
manhood the noon, old age the evening; and to 
complete the comparison death is termed the 
night. So youth is sometimes named the spring, 
manhood the summer and age the winter. Here 
is the origin of me ta plior and allegory. A strong 
man is called a Hercules, a patriotic defender 
of his country a Washington. In personifica- 
tion the winds are said to be furies ; the winter 
a monarch. 

" See winter comes to rule the varied year, 
Sullen and sad, with all his rising train, 
Vapours, and clouds and storms." 

Contrast also brings up strong associations 
and thus heightens our joys or increases our 
sorrows. Safety succeeding danger, and relief 
after severe pain, are enjoyed with keen delight. 
So disappointment when we had great expecta- 
tions, poverty overtaking us in the midst of afflu- 
ence ; death breaking in upon a family circle in 
the full enjoyment of youth and health, are ex- 



192 ASSOCIATION. 

ceedingly bitter. A great object associated with 
a small one makes the great one appear larger, 
and the less, smaller than it really is. In the ob- 
jects of sight the mind finds a gratification in 
the association of contrasting forms and colours. 
The bright sunshine with the dark shades of 
the woods ; the deep green of the earth with 
the brilliant blue of the heavens ; the gigantic 
oak with the little violet ; the sublime cataract 
with the gentle rivulet. And beautifully does 
this associating power in the mind harmonize 
with the objects of its perceptions found in na- 
ture, so uniform, so varied, so contrasted. 

The love of home and friends is sometimes 
heightened by the contrast of situation. Some 
Greenlanders were carried slaves to Copen- 
hagen ; the magnificence of the city augmented 
their grief, as the contrast brought to their minds 
the poverty of their own beloved country, and 
home was vividly presented to them. Many 
died of sorrow, though treated with kindness, 
and several were drowned in attempting to re- 
turn home in an open boat. " Alas," said Ca- 
ractacus, the king of the. rude Britons, when 
carried a captive to Rome, " with all these 
splendid palaces, could you envy me a cottage 
in Britain ?" 

A boy placed at a public military school in 
France, was observed at the. time of meals, to 



ASSOCIATION. 19o 

refuse all food except bread and water. When 
ordered to take other nourishment and repri- 
manded for his disobedience, he wept. The 
officer in charge pressed him with questions, 
and he acknowledged that the thought of parta- 
king of good soups and meats among strangers, 
while his mother and brothers were almost 
without bread at home, was more than he could 
bear. 

To the association of contrast, chiefly is to be 
referred that combination of thought termed 
wit. Pope in his description of a lady's toilet 
has these lines : 

"The tortoise here and elephant unite, 
Transform'd to combs, the speckled and the white, 
Here files of pins extend their shining rows ; 
Puffs, powders, patches, bibles, billet-doux." 

Also, in describing the things lost upon earth 
that are found in the moon, he says : 

*' There, heroes' wits are kept in ponderous vases, 
And beaux in snuff-boxes and tweezer-cases ; 
There broken vows and death-bed alms are found, 
And lover's hearts with ends of ribbon bound. 
Cages for gnats, and chains to yoke a flea, 
Dry'd butterflies, and tomes of casuistry." 

Rape of the Lock. 

Contiguity or nearness, is the foundation of 
many associations. My own brings with it emo- 
tions very different from those we feel in con- 
templating what is anothers. Hence the pref- 
13 



194 ASSQCIATION. 

erence for our native place, for the church in 
which we worship ; the dearest affections of the 
heart are connected with them. The wearied 
and sea-sick traveller on his approach to land 
feels his spirits revive with the anticipation of 
the comforts of firm footing, quiet apartments, 
a good bed, fresh water and the nameless plea- 
sures that terra firma affords. Still greater is 
his delight, if the land he approaches be his own 
country. In addition to the association of field 
and forest, and human population, contrasted 
with the liquid desert upon which he has been 
wandering ; in addition to this contrasting asso- 
ciation of sea and land, does he associate the 
sympathies of home. He is linked to his coun- 
try by a thousand ties which bind him to none 
beside ; and his very heart bounds with joy as 
the vessel sweeps into port, and well-remem- 
bered scenes, to which years before he bade a 
sorrowful farewell, rise before him. He leaps 
upon the shore. Those waters washed his 
boyish feet ; from that very wharf dangled his 
fishing-line. Yonder is the steeple under which 
his mother worships; and there, in the distance, 
is the paternal roof. His limbs almost refuse 
to carry him, for associations too strong are 
gathering around his heart; hopes and fears hold 
terrible conflict within. 

In visiting the shores of Greece, the educated 



ASSOCIATION. 195 

traveller, as he treads the streets of modern 
Athens, forgets its degradation ; for he beholds 
the City of Pericles with its Odeon and its golden 
Minerva. He listens for the voice of Demos- 
thenes as he thundered forth his Philippics ; he 
searches for Plato and his disciples in the groves 
of the Academy, where the philosopher in- 
structed them in the immortality of the soul ; 
and for Paul on the Hill of Mars, declaring 
before the altars of the Unknown God, Him. 
the Creator of all things, and the Redeemer 
of men. 

This association of ideas with time and place 
is strong, and lasting as life, often giving a col- 
ouring to its happiness. A respectable clergy- 
man, mentioned once in cheerful conversation 
with his friends, that when a child, he had been 
made to listen to stories of ghosts and frightful 
things that are said to rove about under cover 
of the night ; " and even now," said he, laugh- 
ing, " is the association so strong, that when 
night comes, I am obliged to muster all my res- 
olution to the aid of reason, before I can under- 
take to venture any where in the dark ; and I 
often catch my self looking round, while a shud- 
der passes over my frame, to see whether some 
terrible creature is not at my heels." 

The mind naturally associates causes and 
their effects. When we think of winter, we 



196 ASSOCIATION. 

.connect with it cold, and ice, and snow, with 
the accompanying pleasures of good fires, and 
social comforts. Spring comes to the mind with 
genial breezes, budding flowers, the song of 
birds and fragrant meadows. The thought of 
summer brings languor to the mind, and longing 
for cooling fruits and invigorating, healthful 
waters. When we embark upon the ocean we 
think of storm and shipwreck, and when sick- 
ness attacks us we think of death, and some- 
times judgment. The mind also reverts from 
effect to cause. The sight of a portrait will 
suggest the enquiry, who was the painter ? a 
piece of machinery, who was the contriver ? 
Being conscious of thought, of feeling and of 
will, we associate something that thinks, that 
feels, that wills, and call it soul. Then comes 
the enquiry, How came the soul into being ? 
and of this vast machinery of earth and heaven, 
who is the Maker ? 

These are the associations of reason. The 
senses discover qualities, such as heat and cold, 
hardness, softness, roughness ; reason associates 
body with them. Body being given, reason 
finds space. The eye discovers the visible, 
reason conceives the invisible. The senses 
give the material, reason connects the immate- 
rial. The understanding perceives effect, rea- 
the understanding mounts 



ASSOCIATION. 197 

from cause to cause, reason loudly proclaims 
the First Great Cause. 

In this power of the mind to associate do we 
discover its amazing activit}^. One object ad- 
dressed to the perception brings to the concep- 
tion, the memory, the imagination, the judg- 
ment and the feelings, innumerable associated 
thoughts. It is like an electric spark or mag- 
netic influence ; and thus is a train of thought 
involuntary or voluntary carried on the mind, 
no one idea standing alone and unconnected. 
Arrangement or order, is very remarkable in 
this association of ideas, when the mind is under 
the influence of reason. In regarding any ob- 
ject or subject it is considered as a whole before 
it is analyzed or examined in parts. Thus a 
tree first strikes the attention as an entire beau- 
tiful object, the mind then notices the regularity 
of the branches, the form and colour of the 
leaves, the delicacy of the blossoms, the rich- 
ness of the fruits. In the study of Geography, 
we first view the whole globe, then its divisions 
of land and water, with their subdivisions ; 
afterwards the several countries, their divisions 
into states, counties, cities and villages. This 
associated order in perceptions is natural to the 
mind, and becomes much improved by educa- 
tion and habit. 

Persons of brilliant fancy are quick in the 



19S ASSOCIATION. 

association of trifles often incongruous and ludi- 
crous ; relations which are unexpected take 
place in their thoughts and we call them wits ; 
but there is certainly some distinction to be 
made between wit, and odd and fanciful rela- 
tions. Wit is allied to genius, it is the product 
of the imagination, correct, chaste and unex- 
pected in its associations. A love of oddity, 
puns, and low play upon words is hurtful to the 
mind, as it too frequently degenerates into such 
insufferable trifling, that though for a time, and 
in certain company, it may amuse, yet it never 
fails to disgust persons of good sense, and in 
the end turns the mind of him who indulges 
such a vein of humour from every thing serious 
and important. Such persons view things in 
parts, never in their general and reasonable 
relations. In the science of medicine they see 
nothing but the art of killing people ; in law, 
that of picking each others pockets ; in religion, 
that of being supremely dull or hypocritical. 
Thus to indulge the associations of disorderly 
fancy do they break loose from reason. 

Indolence, inattention, or some foolish curi- 
osity frequently hinders the mind in such exer- 
cise of reflection as is necessary to form correct 
associations ; thus is it wild in its imagination, 
deficient in memory, and so imperfect in con- 
ception as to prevent it from arriving at proper 



ASSOCIATION. 199 

conclusions. Here again, should the mother or 
teacher be in watchful observance of the open- 
ing intellect. Children are averse to fixedness 
of thought, and so volatile that the buzzing of 
a fly will break up the associated train of ideas 
in study or recitation. They are fanciful and apt. 
to be affected by slight relations, so that they need 
to have their minds continually brought back to 
the point in question, and their attention con- 
fined to an associated or regular train of thought, 
the prominent ideas and those connected in the 
most important relations being kept in view. 

A specimen of the manner in which children 
think may give assistance to the mother or 
teacher in this training of mind. A girl of 
twelve years of age was requested to write 
what she knew of the history of Socrates, which 
not long before she had for a lesson. Here is 
her account : " Socrates was a great man. He 
had a wife named Zantippe, who was a great 
scold, and one day as he was going out she threw 
a pitcher of water on his head. Socrates lived 
till he was old, and was then poisoned to death 
by drinking a cup of hemlock tea." You see 
here how few things arrested the attention of 
this little girl in the History of Socrates, how 
slightly they were related and how unimportant. 
Take another instance. Mamma, you promised 
to tell me about the good man who was put in 



200 ASSOCIATION. 

the inquisition, said James. Sit down then, 
answered the mother and I will begin. James 
sat down accordingly. This gentleman was a 
merchant who went to Spain on business. Ah, 
interrupted the boy, Uncle Joseph says, they 
carry long knives and have fine oranges in 
Spain. How I love oranges. Mamma, why do 
not oranges grow here ? The climate is not 
warm enough, my son. Very true, said James, 
we are always freezing here. I don't like cold 
weather, I wish we lived in the West Indies, 
where Uncle Joseph says it is always warm. 
The mother smiled, and the little boy mused a 
moment. They have slaves in the West Indies 
and I don't like slavery. Mother where do the 
negroes come from t Africa, said the mother. 
Ah, that is where they get ivory and gold-dust. 
Thus it is that the mind of a lively child will 
wander ; and here firm and continual discipline 
is necessary to fix it ; else may this roving fancy 
show itself hereafter in feebleness of intellect, 
unsettled purposes, and finally in the dotage of 
long story telling with perpetually recurring- 
episodes. We have seen that the mind is either 
subjected to the perceptions brought to it by the 
senses, and that then its associations are loose 
and arbitrary, or it is under the control of the 
reason, and its associations are natural and sub- 
jected to the order arising from reflection. 



ASSOCIATION. 201 

When attention does not stop the current of 
thought for the examination of any one subject, 
the mind is balloted from wave to wave, car- 
ried from perceptions of the present to those of 
the past, brought by recollection, in endless 
and fruitless succession. Examine the train of 
thought as we notice it in the conversation cf 
ignorant or unreflecting persons ; they are led off 
by a word or an object to an entire new subject, 
and however interesting may have been the ori- 
ginal topic, you cannot without manifest effort 
bring them back to it. Some for want of this 
natural order in the associations of thought, are 
not capable of conducting an argumentative 
discourse extemporaneously ; others from the 
rapidity with which thoughts slightly related 
pass through their minds, can with ready utter- 
ance, entrance an audience of common hearers, 
while sound reasoning which they do not use, 
is indispensable with those who exercise their 
own reason. What an eloquent man, such a 
flow of words ; it requires no effort to listen to 
him. What did he prove ? is the enquiry. I 
cannot really tell, but I was charmed. Those 
who use their reason in reflection are not thus 
carried away ; they seek the wherefore, they 
enquire the cause, and are unsatisfied with a 
torrent of words. 

So in other matters the reasoning mind re- 



202 ASSOCIATION. 

quires natural rather than arbitrary associations. 
The relation of cause and effect strikes it for- 
cibly, also the relation between objects and their 
qualities ; between bodies and other bodies, 
between matter and mind, between mind and 
mind. Lastly it seeks relations, moral and 
immortal. 

The power of associating thoughts affects the 
mind in a variety of ways. Much of the plea- 
sure we derive from qualities in material ob- 
jects depends upon our associations. Colour is 
one instance of this. Blue, pink, lilac, green, 
are beautiful in themselves as colours ; we like 
them when worn by the young and the fair ; 
but should they be unfashionable, illy assorted 
or unsuitable to the age and circumstances of 
the wearer, they would not please the eye. 
Black, when worn as mourning, produces 
oloomv thoughts in the beholder, when used as 
a dress of convenience or of fashion, no such 
emotion is produced. New fashions being asso- 
ciated with the great or the gay, who first use 
them, are looked upon with admiration ; when 
they become common, admiration ceases, and 
the very articles that were some time since 
esteemed so costly, and sought so eagerly, are 
thrown by as worthless. Hannah More says of 
the Miss Fentons, " that when covering the 
person was the order of the day, not Queen 



ASSOCIATION. 203 

Elizabeth and her maids of honour were more 
concealed in ruffs and capes than they ; but 
when display became fashionable, not the god- 
dess Diana and her nymphs were more uncov- 
ered." The tones, the looks, the words, the 
manners, the sentiments of the wealthy and the 
fashionable, are by some minds regarded as the 
standard of all that is beautiful or right. These 
suffer arbitrary associations to carry them as 
far from reason as from good taste. 

In many other ways do associated qualities 
strongly affect us. Regularity, order and neat- 
ness are so associated with our comfort that 
they are highly pleasing to us in the objects that 
surround us. Irregularity may be a beauty in 
a tangled forest, where flowers and shrubs of all 
sorts and colours grow up in wild and sweet 
profusion, but to see things out of place and in 
a mass of confusion around our dwellings would 
excite any thing but pleasurable emotions. 
Here, order, neatness and regularity, are indis- 
pensable. These associations constitute a prin- 
ciple charm in domestic life, and many a woman 
renders herself respectable and beloved with 
few mental acquisitions, from an attention to 
neatness and order in herself and her household 
concerns. So valuable an ingredient are these 
qualities in the happiness of the domestic circle, 
that men frequently rank them above every 



204 ASSOCIATION. 

other consideration in the education of our sex ; 
and with a prejudice, it may be illy founded, 
they associate the idea of a literary wife, with 
a slovenly, disorderly, and badly-managed fam- 
ily ; when perhaps the association would be 
more correct, should they couple slovenliness 
and disorder with indolence, inattention, and 
bad taste, inseparable appendages to a mind 
not properly cultivated, more under the direc- 
tion of the senses than of reason. 

The emotions of the mind are much, it may 
be altogether, under the influence of its asso- 
ciating power. An instance of it is seen in the 
effect that different seasons of the year have over 
the feelings. The spring, when all nature is 
in renovation, gives a cheerful tone to the mind, 
in harmony with the budding of flowers, the 
song of birds, and the balmy breezes of the 
south ; while in autumn, the wintry sky, the 
changing colours of the forest, the fall of the leaf, 
produce an irrepressible sadness ; a foreboding 
of the period when the whitening locks, and the 
tottering steps, show the approach to the win- 
ter of the tomb. 

An intimate relation subsists in the mind be- 
tween sounds and ideas ; hence many of the 
pleasures derived from eloquence and music. 
The gentle tones of the voice, in an unknown 
tongue, would be persuasive, because of the 



ASSOCIATION. 205 

association with amiability of character, and 
harsh tones would be disagreeable, even fright- 
ful, from the association with the opposite qual- 
ity. Soft sounds in music associated with ten- 
der sentiments, fill the mind with pleasing emo- 
tions ; animated sounds joined to heroic senti- 
ments elevate it, and impart courage even to 
the coward. This is noticed on the battle-field, 
where the music seems sufficient to impel the 
soldier and even the war-horse to rush upon 
carnage and destruction. The effect of music 
over the mind is most marked in its power to 
recall the past with intensity of feeling. Every 
one has witnessed this in the effect produced upon 
the aged, by hearing sung the songs of childhood 
or of youth ; or in the overpowering emotion 
caused by hearing some air associated in his re- 
membrance with former happiness, when that 
happiness has fled forever with the voice, now 
silent, that created it. 

An American gentleman in Paris, giving an 
account of the Fourth of July celebration in 
that capital adds, " I must not omit to tell you 
how much we cheered Yankee Doodle. At 
home we should have heard it with pleasure, 
but without cheering. Here when it struck up, 
it touched the electric chain that binds us to the 
pleasant land we have left, and all seemed to 
be inspired with the impulse to applaud again. 



206 ASSOCIATION. 

I know not whether the tune in the abstract be 
good or bad, but music like poetry, is to be 
praised according to the number of associations 
it awakens, or the images it renews. Yankee 
Doodle with us should have no parallel. I know 
not what are the images raised in the minds of 
others by that good old tune, but to me it is a 
glass of Surra's Magician, and presents an im- 
age of beauty. It shows me a green land of 
long rivers and broad lakes — a land flowing 
with milk and honey — a land of steady habits, 
white churches and school-houses, and many 
newspapers." 

The association of habit is interesting and 
very remarkable. In learning for instance to 
play an instrument, the utmost attention is 
necessary to go through all the notes of a piece 
of music ; this is at first slowly and almost 
painfully performed ; but soon the fingers run 
over it lightly, and the notes are so associated 
in the memory, that the person can play it in 
the dark and even when the mind is engaged 
with something else. In the same way can 
some persons who are in the constant habit of 
casting up large accounts in Arithmetic, give in 
almost incredibly short time, the associated 
amount of vast and unexpected numbers. A 
blind boy from the Asylum of the Blind exhib- 
iting in the presence of a company, was told to 



ASSOCIATION. 207 

repeat certain verses aloud, while he at the 
same time went mentally through the exercise 
of adding together a number of large figures 
making a great sum : he was requested when 
he obtained the number sought, to stop his reci- 
tation of the verses ; which he did in the midst 
of a line, by naming the amount of his addi- 
tion. This boy had the habit of associating 
words in his memory, without thinking of their 
meaning ; also numbers, which by abstraction 
he could do while repeating words. Perhaps, 
with the sense of sight, the train of mental, 
habitual associations would not have been so 
perfect. The power of the habitual association 
of ideas and words is very great in public 
speakers ; in those especially who can, for hours 
together, hold an audience in mute attention. 
The art of rhyming, or writing verse, is another 
instance of this habit ; in such cases thought 
flows out, as readily and rapidly, in metrical 
lines, as in prose. 

Much of the routine of common life is but 
the regular association of habitual performances 
at stated times. Follow a lady through one 
day of her housekeeping, and you will find that 
she performs almost mechanically, a multitude 
of labours, that seem habitually to follow each 
other. Each hour has its appointed employ- 
ment, and these duties are so associated to- 



208 ASSOCIATION. 

gether in her thoughts, that none are omitted. 
A person of indolent habits might suppose such 
continual occupation very irksome. Not at all ; 
the duties of such a woman are connected in so 
regular a train, and so intimately associated in 
mind, that the omission of any one would be 
painful ; habit renders the performance easy ; 
her interest in them, as they are beneficial to 
others, makes it pleasant. Wonderfully indeed 
is the mind adapted to its earthly condition. 
How distressing would life be, if its daily ac- 
tions, and necessary employments, were always 
as tedious and slow as when they were first 
attempted ! 

In some persons the defect of recollection is 
very remarkable in the use of names and terms, 
with which they are not familiar. We rarely 
misapply a name, or term, we use frequently, 
although it sometimes happens. A mother 
even, will occasionally, in the perplexity of 
family cares, run over in succession the names 
of her children, before she fixes upon the right 
one : and one neighbour will call another, Mr. 
What's his name the grocer, who lives at the 
corner. Montaigne could not recollect the 
names of his servants, but called one cook, 
another coachman. Proper names are arbi- 
trary, and not at all associated with the indi- 
dividual, because they do not describe him ; 



ASSOCIATION. 209 

but the name of his profession, or any word 
that denotes something in his appearance 
given to him as an epithet, would be recollected. 
Such names are in use among the North Amer- 
ican Indians, as Red Jacket, Big Gun, Destroy 
Town. The names of the Israelites were also 
significant of some quality or circumstance rela- 
ting to the person, such as Naomi signifying plea- 
sant, and Mara bitterness. Among us this is not 
so ; the same name to which no -meaning is 
attached is given to a number of individuals, and 
therefore difficult to recollect in its application to 
one. Terms used to denote classes of objects that 
strike the attention, are easily recollected ; in- 
deed they come up, from infancy, associated 
with the object — such as a tree, a house, a book. 
Children are often long in learning the letters 
of the alphabet upon the above principle. It 
is not easy to make a child, whether dull or 
sprightly, so familiar with the form of a letter, 
as to associate with it a name ; many of the let- 
ters nearly resemble each other, and they con- 
vey to the mind, in themselves, no idea. There- 
fore is it, that the device of connecting some 
idea with the letter, is frequently used ; such as 
round o, crooked s ; c with cat, d with dog. Chil- 
dren will learn to associate the letters in rota- 
tion, sooner than they will learn to distinguish 

one from another. Atticus Herodus, a great 
14 



210 ASSOCIATION. 

orator in the reign of Nerva, had a son whose 
inaptness for learning was very great. To 
teach him the alphabet his father gave him 
twenty-four domestics, with each a letter on his 
breast, and by the name of the letter was the 
servant called ; so that in time the stupid boy 
learnt his alphabet and even to read. 

The associations of the mind often influence 
its judgments. With rank and riches we are 
apt to connect in our minds, worth, respecta- 
bility and happiness, and so bestow our admi- 
ration ; and in contrasting our situation with the 
above, whom we imagine so fortunate, we are 
disposed to think ourselves very miserable. 
With the prosperity of those whom we regard 
with envy, we associate the favour of Provi- 
dence ; with our own misfortunes, the displea- 
sure of the Almighty. David, the man after 
God's own heart, fell into this error and was 
cured of it by going into the Sanctuary. There 
he learned the end of the prosperous and wicked 
man, and was taught that whom the Lord loveth 
He chasteneth. When the mind is not sub- 
jected to the controul of reason and piety, all 
its operations must become in a degree disor- 
dered ; and especially will its power of asso- 
ciation influence the judgment in drawing unfair 
conclusions. 

An instance of this we find in the history of 



ASSOCIATION. 211 

the Romans. The empire when enervated and 
degraded by luxury fell into the hands of the 
Barbarians of the North. These people con- 
nected the pomp and splendour of the abject 
Romans with their downfall, and to avoid such 
fate themselves, they broke in pieces the stately 
edifices and destroyed the finest works of human 
ingenuity. They turned the pleasure grounds 
and gardens into parks for hunting the wild 
boar, and pastured their herds where they might 
have raised luxurious harvests. They prohib- 
ited their children the knowledge of the elegant 
arts as well as of the literature and language of 
the Romans, because they concluded from their 
pusillanimity, that knowledge and learning tend 
to enervate the mind. 

Conclusions, similar to those drawn by the 
barbarous Goths, are from similar associations 
at this enlightened period, drawn by persons 
whose education might enable them to form 
more correct judgments. The mischiefs arising 
from unfounded associations are often seen in 
the distracting fears which frequently possess 
the mind, that might quickly be dispelled by 
reflection ; as in the superstitious dread ensuing 
from the association of night and darkness, with 
attacks from robbers, or the haunting of disem- 
bodied spirits. The sight of a hedious or fero- 
cious animal let loose upon us, might give rea- 



212 ASSOCIATION. 

sonable cause for alarm ; but should the animal 
be confined in a cage or chained, or should we 
have the facile means of escaping, it would be 
unreasonable to indulge in terror. A gentleman, 
as Miss Edgeworth relates, had contracted, per- 
haps from some fright in infancy, a great aver- 
sion to spiders. One of his friends wishing to 
cure him of what he thought an unreasonable 
antipathy, made a resemblance in wax of a 
large black spider which he held, partly con- 
cealed in his hand. The spider-fearing gentle- 
man immediately started back to the wall, 
drawing his sword. The friend in vain assured 
him that he held nothing but wax, the poor man 
actually became convulsed. Here is a sad in- 
stance of the effect of early and unreasonable 
relations, established and strengthened by habit 
into insurmountable antipathy. 

Thought, produced by the mental percep- 
tions, runs through the mind during the waking 
hours, and perhaps during sleep in a perpetual 
current. This is involuntary, and in the years 
of infancy and childhood it seems almost un- 
controuled, nearly resembling, unless directed 
by the careful mother, delirium or insanity. It 
is to this state of incoherent or arbitrary asso- 
ciations that persons sometimes return in old 
age. But as reason begins to assume the reins 
of empire, thought becomes voluntary. Then 



ASSOCIATION. 213 

it is that the pliant mind needs skilful direction, 
else will the senses, and the feelings or the 
prejudices of others, lead to such associations 
as shall give a colouring to future life ; for at 
this period it is that the mind forms habits of 
thought ; speech and actions are but its expres- 
sions, and will be in accordance with its sug- 
gestions. Should children at this time be per- 
mitted the companionship of the ignorant, the 
vulgar and the immoral, the thoughts and the 
habits of such companions will become asso- 
ciated with the strongest emotions ; with the 
affection that binds the young heart to the com- 
panions of childhood. " Do not tell mamma 
that you heard such things in the kitchen, she 
is cross and will scold poor dear Susan, who 
gives you nice things." I would not try to 
learn all that long lesson, the teacher is very 
unreasonable to expect you to be forever over 
your books." "Every body wonders that your 
father does not provide you with dress more 
suitable to his fortune ; he has no need of such 
economy." " Put on a sober face, yonder comes 
the minister, now for a sermon." 

With persons who are thus connecting a show 
of affection with unworthy, unreasonable, and 
immoral sentiments, are many children and 
youth suffered to pass a great part of their time, 
while the mother is otherwise engaged ; and 



214 ASSOCIATION. 

thus are associations formed that will render 
them vulgar, discontented and unreasonable ; 
filling them with prejudice against their parents, 
their teachers, the ministers of God, and religion 
itself. Those, who thus indoctrinate young per- 
sons into error and folly are not confined to the 
class called domestics, they are in every rank 
and situation in life ; found every where among 
the gossiping members of society. 

This part of our subject comes with intense 
interest to the parent, the teacher and to the 
young themselves. With amazing responsi- 
bility must it strike the parent, to whom is en- 
trusted the guardianship of the infant mind, the 
direction of the opening reason, the formation 
of the habits that will probably fix the character, 
and decide the happiness or wretchedness of 
life ; it may be of eternity. The teacher will 
see its importance, when the connection between 
a well ordered train of thought, and the mem- 
ory and understanding is considered. Much 
instruction must be thrown away, unless correct 
relations can be established, and order preserved 
in the mental associations of the pupils. The 
retaining of knowledge and the ability to reason 
or judge properly, depend upon this. 

To you my young friends I would say, that 
if you have already, at this early period of your 
lives, contracted habits of thought that you 



ASSOCIATION. 215 

now judge incorrect, indulging in unreasonable 
hopes, or fears, or prejudices ; you have yet 
power within you to overcome such habits. You 
have reason to enlighten you, as to whether the 
associations formed in your minds be correct, 
and you have voluntary power, sufficient to break 
up what in thought is unreasonable, consequently 
incorrect. Especially would I urge you to have 
a care of whatever would influence your moral 
and eternal relations. Beware of associates who 
exhibit vulgarity in speech, in manner, or even 
in the hidden meaning of a word ; refuse to 
listen to those who speak evil of the things or 
persons whom your own judgment and con- 
science tell you should be venerated. What- 
ever does dishonour to religion, avoid as you 
would the coil of a serpent. Be assured that 
the sarcastic joke, the promised pleasure, the 
kind commiseration, though at first disregarded 
by you, will have their effect ; they will find a 
corrupt principle within coinciding with the 
outward temptation ; your only safety is in 
flight, while you put up a prayer for aid to the 
Almighty. 



216 ABSTRACTION. 



CHAPTER IX. 



ABSTRACTION. 



Attention, as we have seen is a voluntary act. 
whereby we direct our observation to any one 
object or subject, for the purpose of examina- 
tion. A landscape, for instance strikes upon 
the mind as a whole. The arching heavens, 
the mirrored lake ; the dark woods, the green 
fields and the white cottages form a beautiful 
assemblage upon Which the mind rests with an 
emotion of pleasure ; but as it carries on a higher 
operation, attention fixes itself upon the partic- 
ulars in this group of objects, so that they are 
surveyed one after another, in smaller groups or 
as individuals. These particulars are classed 
as land, as water, as sky : and again other par- 
ticulars are noticed of each of these ; the hea- 
vens are blue, arched and variegated with clouds ; 
the earth green, and covered with vegetable and 
animal life ; the water now calm and transpa- 
rent, shadowing forth the beauties of field and 
sky, anon turbid and foaming when lashed by 
the changing winds. As the mind passes from 
general conceptions to particulars, its emo- 
tions subside, and philosophic research takes 
place.* 

* Note J. 



ABSTRACTION. 217 

An object, for instance a tree, presents itself to 
us not in a simple, but complex state. We per- 
ceive it as it stands, with trunk, branches, leaves 
and fruit ; the fruits arrest our attention and we 
recollect to have seen those which were similar. 
Upon examination they are found to be the 
same, in kind, and we refer the tree to tire same 
class as those which bear like fruits, and thus 
a collection of trees is arranged according to 
some one attribute found in a number of them, 
not discoverable in others. That voluntary act 
of attention by which we disregard every thing 
in an object except certain qualities that we 
desire to notice, is called abstraction. Let us 
imagine a party of persons, of different occu- 
pations, travelling together for amusement. The 
geologist disregarding forest and field, descends 
from his carriage to investigate the nature of 
the soil and to possess himself of pieces of stone 
and rock; the botanist stops to examine the 
plants ; the painter notices light and shade, to- 
gether with the fine points of landscape. The 
farmer sees nothing but the crops ripening for 
the harvest, the speculator seeks only a good 
location for an imaginary city. You will per- 
ceive that each one directs his attention to that 
particular, which, either from interest or plea- 
sure, occupies his thoughts, disregarding every 
other. 



218 ABSTRACTION. 

White is the colour of chalk, of milk, of snow 
and of other objects. In the imagination we 
abstract this quality from bodies and call it 
whiteness. Hence the origin of abstract terms. 
We speak of virtue without reference to any- 
particular virtuous person, so of happiness; and 
these terms have in our minds a definite mean- 
ing. All those persons possessing the qualities 
which we attach to these terms, are distinguished 
by the appellation of the virtuous or the happy ; 
and thus we designate mankind by classes. We 
talk of truth, falsehood, vanity, injustice ; and 
we call persons the faithful, the false, the vain, 
the unjust. In this ability to distinguish objects 
by their qualities, and to set out, or seperate, 
any one object pr quality, disregarding all 
others, do we find the origin of scientific re- 
search. Objects are known by their qualities 
or attributes, and by some particular attribute 
or quality are they distinguished from each 
other. These attributes constitute differences, 
greater or less, and the understanding is em- 
ployed in making or remarking them. Man, is, 
in one sense, an animal, but he differs greatly 
from the quadruped, which goes on four feet ; 
he differs still more from the bird which though 
it walks upon two feet raises itself in the air on 
wings ; still greater is the difference remarked 
between man and the fish or the reptile, that 



ABSTRACTION. 219 

moves without feet. Among quadrupeds, the 
monkey tribes that go erect, approach nearest 
to him in appearance, the dog resembles him 
most in understanding and in feeling ; but man 
evidently belongs to another race of beings ; his 
distinguishing mark is his rational and moral 
nature. 

" All general principles are founded on clas- 
sifications which imply the exercise of abstrac- 
tion," but classification depends on a knowledge 
of the particulars which mark the essential dif- 
ferences ; so that in order to generalize we must 
also particularize. Hence we infer that the 
correctness of our general views depend, in 
the first place, upon an extensive and minute 
knowledge of facts or particulars, in the second 
place upon a sound judgment, directing the 
attention to the points in a subject that predom- 
inate, or are most remarkable. Thus the vari- 
eties in the human family are reduced to a few 
races as the European, American, Mongolian, 
African and Asiatic. In the theory of politics 
the different forms of government are by the 
means of abstracting a few of their peculiarities, 
resolved into three ; monarchy, aristocracy and 
democracy. The botanist, passing by other 
particulars in plants, attends to the number of 
stamens found in their blossoms, and arranges 
them accordingly. 



220 ABSTRACTION. 

From this explanation you will perceive that 
the higher exercise of the understanding, and 
even of reason itself, is necessary to arrive at 
truth in the establishment of general principles. 
Plato in his definition of man, called him an 
animal without feathers who walked on two 
feet. Diogenes, the cynic, entering the place 
where the above philosopher was instructing 
his disciples, threw among the assembly a fowl 
which he had stripped of its feathers, exclaim- 
ing, "Behold Plato's man." It would seem 
that the very Reason, about which this great 
philosopher so ably discoursed, might have in- 
structed him to make that attribute of the mind 
the essential difference between men and brutes. 
To be able to form correct general conceptions 
of truth marks a high order of intellect ; of 
this, Newton and Bacon are eminent examples. 
Minds so constituted seem to have the power of 
putting aside all associating ideas, and glancing 
along the line of thought, possess themselves of 
the facts, which set the subject they contem- 
plate in its clearest light. After them, come the 
patient labourers, who by experiment, by inves- 
tigation, and the arrangement of particulars, 
" build up science in its fair proportions. " # 

Wonderful indeed is this power of abstracting 
the mind from the outward perceptions which 

* Note L. 



ABSTRACTION. 221 

seem to confine it to present and surrounding 
objects ; thus enabling it to anticipate by ages 
the discovery of truths the farthest removed 
above ordinary apprehension ; to conjecture as 
did Claire nt the existence of a seventh planet; 
to infer as did Newton, from the refraction of light 
the inflammable quality of the diamond. Still 
more marvellous is that process of thought, by 
which the mind without external aid, borrowing 
nothing from the objects of sense, enters into 
the most abstruse investigations of mathemat- 
ical science. This power of abstracting thought, 
and of divesting it of every thing foreign to the 
subject under consideration, is not in itself inven- 
tion, it is the means by which invention is ren- 
dered effectual ; it is the voluntary effort by 
which the mind puts forth its power, by which 
it asserts its personality, and constitutes an 
essential difference between intellect and in- 
tellect. 

Where this fixedness of thought is not found 
to exist, a confusion of ideas takes place, ob- 
scure reveries insue, and no subject remains 
clearly and definitely marked in the under- 
standing. The great German scholar, Herder, 
who did so much for the better understanding 
of the Sacred Scriptures, as well as other clas- 
sical works ; who contributed so much to the 
study of nature and of human character, speaks 



222 ABSTRACTION. 

thus of himself. " In early years when the 
fields of knowledge lay before me, with the 
glow of a morning sun, the idea often occurred 
to my mind, whether like other great subjects 
of thought, each of which has its philosophy 
and science, that subject also which lies nearest 
our hearts — the history of mankind, viewed as 
a whole, might not also have its philosophy and 
science. Every thing reminded me of this 
idea, metaphysics and morals, natural philos- 
ophy and natural history, lastly, and most pow- 
erfully, religion." Here is the example of a 
great mind taking a comprehensive view of the 
history of mankind, making of it a science ; 
this is the only way to be benefitted by its study. 

Leibnitz, also, who had surveyed the whole 
field of science with a penetrating eye, had his 
attention early directed to mathematical re- 
searches ; in his sixteenth year he was' occu- 
pied in considering the differences of those 
numbers whose succession forms a regular 
series. He thus arrived at the law of constant 
magnitudes. The researches of this great man 
have been of immense service to the progress 
of reason and of science. He read every thing, 
and made short extracts in writing of whatever 
he accounted valuable. 

In this exercise of mind three acts are ne- 
cessary ; first, attention or regarding a subject 



ABSTRACTION. 223 

with fixed contemplation ; second withholding 
the attention from all but one part, or a few of its 
parts ; third generalizing or putting together 
resemblances so as to form classes. There is 
great pleasure as well as utility in this opera- 
tion of thought, and though children are averse 
to general views, yet are they fond of analogies ; 
therefore with them it is best to begin with the 
details, causing the pupil to remark the dif- 
ferences as well as the analogies in objects and 
subjects. Introduce an intelligent child into a 
museum of Natural History, and he will quickly 
select the different objects that fall under his 
observation, and arrange them into kinds or 
classes ; quadrupeds, birds, fishes, insects, shells, 
minerals. With a little pains he may be taught 
to perceive in what particulars the several spe- 
cies of animals agree and in what they differ. 
Thus will he learn to distinguish and to clas- 
sify. So in politics, and religion, or other sub- 
jects, young persons should be made to under- 
stand the agreement as well as the differences 
in opinions, and being thus instructed will they 
in time have clear, as well as general and ex- 
tensive views of truth. To rest in particulars 
is a grand defect in education ; the great prin- 
ciples of a science being understood, the facts 
will readily range themselves in their proper 
places. A pupil desired to learn Arithmetic, 



224 ABSTRACTION. 

but would only be instructed from a certain 
book. And why ? because she expected to be- 
come a teacher, and wished to do every sum 
contained in the book she should be required to 
teach. A knowledge of the principles would 
have enabled her to go through the various ope- 
rations of Arithmetic wherever she met them. 

But the human intellect is ever prone to run 
into extremes, and it certainly is a matter of 
prime importance to preserve it in proper bal- 
ance. Some minds err in generalizing too much, 
as the musician who believed that God created 
the world in six days and rested on the seventh 
because there were but seven notes in music, 
or the mathematician who insisted upon having 
the existence of God and the immortality of the 
soul proved by mathematical demonstration. 
These persons generalize in their own partic- 
ular manner ; that is, they form general princi- 
ples out of such particulars as reason would 
never establish as generals, and thus their minds 
become purile and contracted. It is said of the 
geologist Werner, that he was so fond of divi- 
ding and classifying that he bought books not 
to study but to arrange in his library ; also, that 
the order of his dinner-table was to him a mat- 
ter of the same importance. 

A reproach is often cast upon men of learn- 
ing that they dwell so exclusively on one sub- 



ABSTRACTION. 225 

ject as to unfit them for the various and com- 
mon duties of life. That this is the case of 
many is but too true, it being a natural conse- 
quence of keeping the attention fixed in an un- 
divided manner upon any one thing. This will 
so increase in importance, while every other 
object lessens, that at last it becomes absorbing, 
and all other things dwindle to a point almost 
imperceptible. A sixpence held sufficiently 
near the eye will hide from its sight the immense 
body of the sun itself. Who knows whether in 
a sort of monomania, the abused person may 
not be induced to call the sixpence the sun ! 

This sort of aberration is noted more espe- 
cially in those whose thoughts are exclusively 
turned to one subject. An example of this is 
found in La Fontaine, the French poet, who in 
his devotion to the exercise of the imagination 
forgot all the sober duties of life, his affairs fell 
into disorder, he seldom saw his family, and 
knew not even his own son whom he met as a 
stranger in Paris. This abstraction rendered 
him insensible also to bodily inconveniences. 
A lady of his acquaintance going one morning 
to Versailles saw La Fontaine under a tree, in 
deep thought ; returning in the evening, she 
found him still in the same place, without any 
change in his attitude, although the weather 

was cold, and a heavy rain had fallen during: 
15 



226 ABSTRACTION. 

the day. The poet Dante entered, the shop of 
a bookseller to see a procession, but taking up 
a book, he became so absorbed that he declared, 
he had neither seen nor heard any thing of what 
had passed. It is related of Hogarth the cele- 
brated painter that going in his coach to visit 
the Lord Mayor of London, he forgot the door 
by which he entered and ^passing out at another, 
he walked home in a shower of rain. His wife 
who saw him come in drenched, asked what 
had become of his carriage ? this brought to his 
recollection the circumstance that he had gone 
out in one. 

The great musician Mozart is another instance 
of the sort of imbecility that sometimes is the 
accompaniment of genius. He was by Haydn 
called a truly great musician : "I have, said 
he, been flattered by my friends with having 
some genius, but he was much my superior." 
In other respects Mozart was a mere child ; so 
destitute was he of economy and prudence, that 
though for many years he had a vast income, 
yet he left nothing to his children but the celeb- 
rity of his name. 

The above examples strikingly show a want 
of proper balance in the intellectual powers. 
In contrasting such men with Herder, with 
Newton and with our own Franklin we are 
amazed at the difference. These truly great 



ABSTRACTION. 227 

minds were eminent in their ability to gene- 
ralize. Newton has been called the creator of 
Natural Philosophy ; Franklin has succeeded in 
disarming the lightening of its terrors ; but these 
great men confined not the amazing powers of 
their active spirits to one object. They were 
energetically engaged in the duties of life, and 
holding high and important offices in the ser- 
vice of their several nations, they disdained not 
to fill with affectionate attention the private sta- 
tion allotted to every man. Newton indeed at 
the close of life gave himself almost wholly to 
what he considered its greatest concern, the 
study of the Sacred Word and preparatiou for 
Eternity. Herder, upon whose tomb the Grand 
Duke of Weimer caused to be inscribed the 
words "Light, Love, Life," was a model of virtue 
and ready to do all the good in his power, yet 
so sensible at times was he of his deficiency 
that he often exclaimed, "Oh my profitless life." 
Franklin was remarkable for the versatility 
of his mind, for his ability to attend to any sub- 
ject that presented itself, and his willingness so 
to do when he considered it useful to others. 
Holding an eminent station in the national coun- 
cils of his country, and " held by all Europe in 
high estimation for his knowledge and wisdom," 
Jie did not disdain to turn his thoughts to the 
instruction of children, of apprentices and of the 



228 ABSTRACTION. 

poor. He was eminent for his prudence, and 
economy ; he considered time the " material of 
which life was made, 1 ' and so careful was he 
in his economy of it that he wasted not his hours 
in committing to memory, but minuted down 
such facts as occurred to him, in reading or in 
contemplation on any subject in which he was 
making research, and then laid them away for 
future use. Franklin's cheerfulness and good 
nature were remarkable ; he was always happy 
and entertaining while he strove in conversation 
and in writing to impress useful truths upon 
others. 

When there is not that balance among the 
intellectual powers, which enables the mind to 
elevate itself to high and general conceptions, 
and at the same time to descend to the partic- 
ulars that come under them, it cannot be capa- 
ble of that exercise of thought which is attendant 
on genius ; it is liable to be carried into extremes, 
and by fixing itself too intently on one sub- 
ject to fall into a sort of aberration or monamania. 
The case of a person carried beyond reason and 
revelation by the subject of the millenium is an 
example of this. Dr. Buchanan when a student 
became acquainted with a young man whose 
whole conversation turned on experimental phi- 
losophy and mathematics. " I have not, said 
he, seen a young man so mathematic-mad in 



ABSTRACTION. 229 

my life. During the whole evening I spent with 
him, his head was continually wool-gathering 
after rhomboids and parallelograms. He as- 
sures me that if I do not study mathematics 
very diligently, I shall have no chance for hon- 
ours. I told him a mediocrity of applause would 
content me. He observed that seven hours a 
day studying mathematics would be sufficient 
for that." " How much reason," exclaims the 
pious Buchanan, "is there for that double-guard 
of prayer and close walking with God, in order 
that I may be enabled to pass through the fire 
unhurt." 

How necessary indeed that in the cultivation 
of our mental powers, we seek to do all for the 
glory of Him who bestowed them. This sin- 
gleness of purpose will keep us from such un- 
measured ardour in any one intellectual pursuit 
as will at last tend to throw the mind from its 
balance and disorder the Reason. With the 
precepts and example of our blessed Redeemer 
in view, we shall feel, that to love the Lord with 
all the heart, does not at all accord with an 
inordinate desire after the glory of holding our- 
selves in the ranks of the learned and the great. 
Though science may be delightful, it will keep 
its proper, that is its secondary place in our 
esteem. It will be the servant through whose 
means we may be the better enabled to bestow 



230 REASON AND UNDERSTANDING. 

the cup of cold water upon the poor and de- 
spised one ; to win by affection the wayward and 
perverse ; to carry the little children in our arms, 
while we communicate to the ignorant in the 
most simple manner, truths the most momentous. 



CHAPTER X. 

REASON AND UNDERSTANDING. 

Of all the creatures of this earth, man is the 
only being endowed with reason. Brutes have 
instinct and in them it is perfect, for it suffices 
to give them all the knowledge their situation 
requires. Created for this earth, and as we are 
told in Scripture, for the service of man, they 
fulfil their brief destiny and perish. In them 
we perceive no developement of intellect, no 
signs of self-knowledge, no taste for mental en- 
joyment, no understanding of moral relations, 
no knowledge of necessary truth. They have 
no reason. 

Reason, according to the definition of Cole- 
ridge, is "the power of universal and necessary 
convictions, the source and substance of truths 
above sense, and having their evidence in them- 
selves." According to Hooker, it is an " in^ 
ward beholding," having the same relation to 



REASON AND UNDERSTANDING. 231 

the intelligible as sense has to the material." 
Cousin says, " All light comes from Reason ; 
it is reason which perceives itself; and the sen- 
sibility which envelopes it." 

The mind believes whatever is necessarily 
true. That beings or material objects exist, is 
a truth to which the reason immediately assents, 
there can be no doubt respecting it ; the senses 
are the testimony, and reason believes. That 
the soul or mind exists independently of the 
body is a truth, attested by Consciousness, or 
the internal Perception, and believed by Rea- 
son. The person who is conscious that he 
thinks and feels, calls himself I, and firmly be- 
lieves that he is ; doubt would be absurdity. 
He also has an irresistible conviction, that he, 
the person who now exercises thought and feel- 
ing, is the- same, who, on a certain subject ex- 
ercised thought and feeling, some weeks, or 
months or years ago ; which thoughts and feel- 
ings are brought back to him by memory. Hi& 
reason assents to the facts brought before it by 
memory, as well as to those exhibited by per- 
ception external, or internal. It is reason which 
attests personal identity, which discovers or 
rather believes the me and the not me. 

Cold and heat are sensations felt by the body, 
but the senses do not seek the cause ; it is the 
Reason which enquires why do I feel cold, or 



232 REASON AND UNDERSTANDING. 

heat ? It is reason which discovers body and 
its qualities causing sensation. I move my 
hand. What causes the motion ? was it any 
thing in the hand itself? not at all; the cause 
is in the mind. But what makes the enquiry ? 
Is it the hand which performs the movement ? 
is it the eye which sees it, or the lips which 
utter the words ? no, the enquiry arises in the 
mind. It is reason which perceives the relation 
of cause and effect. A watch is presented for 
the first time to the examination of a child ; 
he notices the movement of the hands, and 
enquires, what causes the motion ? You open 
the watch and shew him the wheels, but he is 
not satisfied. How do the wheels move the 
hands, what relation is there between them ? 
and then comes another enquiry, momentous 
indeed, how was this relation formed I who 
made the watch ? A looking-glass was placed 
before a newly arrived African ; he saw his 
own face, but knew not that the image repre- 
sented himself, for quick as thought he turned 
the mirror to see from whence it came. Here 
is untutored reason seeking for cause, for reason 
exists in all minds, the child and savage have 
it as well as the aged and the enlightened. Rea- 
son naturally seeks for truth, but the Will often 
dissolves the court, and waits not for the answer.* 
* Note M. 



REASON AND UNDERSTANDING. 233 

It is difficult to look at reason in the abstract. 
Cousin says, " in itself it is impersonal ; it be- 
longs to no one individual more than to another 
within the compass of humanity : it belongs not 
even to humanity itself. Its laws consequently 
depend only on themselves ; they preside over 
and govern humanity, which perceives them, 
as well as nature which represents them, but 
they neither belong to the one nor to the other."* 

By reason, in the above passage, we must 
understand Truth or reality in material things 
which are the objects of sensation, or truth in 
intellectual and moral things which do not come 
under the observation of the senses. Reason 
in the human mind is the power it has of dis- 
covering truth. In the Divine Mind it is Truth, 
itself, necessary and Eternal.f 

Coleridge distinguishes between Reason and 
Understanding in man, in the following manner : 

1. There is an intuition and immediate be- 
holding, accompanied by a conviction of the 
necessity and universality of the truth so be- 
holden, not derived from the senses ; which 
intuition, when it is construed by pure sense, 
gives birth to the science of mathematics ; and 
when applied to objects supersensuous or spir- 
itual, is the organ of theology and philosophy. 

2. There is likewise a reflective and discus- 
. * Psychology : translated by Dr. Henry. f Note N. 



234 REASON AND UNDERSTANDING. 

sive faculty or mediate apprehension, which 
taken by itself and uninfluenced by the former, 
depends on the senses for the materials on 
which it is exercised, and is contained within 
the sphere of the senses. And this faculty it 
is, which in generalizing the notices of the 
senses, constitutes sensible experience, and 
gives rise to maxims or rules which may become 
more and more general, but can never be raised 
into universal verities, or beget a consciousness 
of absolute certainty ; though they may be suf- 
ficient to extinguish all doubt.* 

M}~ young friends, it is not my intention to 
carry you far into the labyrinths of this subject, 
but it is my desire to place before you, thoughts, 
abstract though they be, which may lead you 
to reflection. Study can never profit unless it 
leads to so much labour of thought as to make 
it mental exercise. The illustrations and facts 
set before you in these Lectures are not intended 
for your amusement, they are designed to assist 
you in the difficult task of self-examination. 
Without reflection on the operations of your 
own minds, all my labour in unfolding these 
principles, as well as your time, will be lost. 
Mental Philosophy is the study of yourselves. 

Look then within, and perhaps you will soon 
begin to discover foundation for the distinction 

* Aids to Reflection. 



REASON AND UNDERSTANDING. 235 

made in the above passages between, Reason 
and Understanding. Reason is here applied to 
necessary truth, truth which it perceives as the 
eye perceives objects, immediately ; accom- 
panied with certainty or fixed belief. The Un- 
derstanding is employed in comparing, analy- 
sing, and judging ; it arrives at conclusions, but 
they are not certain. Reason says it must be 
so ; Understanding says it may be so. Reason 
decides from the nature of things, Understand- 
ing employs experience, it seeks analogies, 
probabilities and comparisons. In Reason we 
have the foundation of demonstration, in Under- 
standing the foundation of probability. 

In necessary mathematical truth reason ar- 
rives at a conclusion before experience. Thus 
that a part is less than a whole, or that two 
sides of an equilateral triangle are greater than 
a third, would be immediately admitted by rea- 
son ; no process is required to come at the con- 
clusion, but judgment or understanding would 
examine by measuring, or comparing. Reason 
when applied to sensible objects, as in the above 
example, is the foundation of mathematical truth, 
when applied to what is above the senses or not 
discoverable by them, it is used in truth that 
may be called metaphysical, that is, in what- 
ever relates to immaterial subjects. 

The Understanding referring itself to com- 



236 REASON AND UNDERSTANDING. 

parison, experience, and reflection, admits no 
higher evidence than probability ; this, in some 
cases, may create in the mind the consciousness 
of certainty. Reason does not aiBrm that on 
the other side of the globe there is such a city 
as Pekin ; nevertheless the Understanding as- 
sents to it, because it is as probable that there 
is a city called by that name in China, as that 
there is one called Philadelphia in America, 
and from the united testimony of travellers the 
mind comes to a conclusion that there can be 
no doubt about it. This conclusion is not the 
same as the affirmation made by the mind in 
the fact, I see. Reason affirms there must be 
eyes to see with. The contrary would be in- 
credible to every rational person. To say there 
is no such city as Pekin would not be incred- 
ible to the uninformed. The king who asserted 
that it was impossible water should become 
hard, said nothing absurd. He had never seen 
ice, nor would he believe Christian travellers, 
whom his prejudices made him take for liars. 
Not to believe that I see the objects before me, 
or that my mind which thinks and feels does 
not exist, is an absurdity. . Reason cannot con- 
sent to it, neither can reason assent to two con- 
tradictory propositions, if one be true the other 
must be false. If it be true that nothing ever 
made itself, or came without a cause, then to 



REASON AND UNDERSTANDING. 237 

assert that this earth and all material things, as 
well as mind itself, exists without a cause, is an 
absurdity. 

The adaptation of every thing to its partic- 
ular use, and every creature to its condition, 
strikes upon the understanding, as the effect of 
design ; reason says, the Designer is the Cause. 
The herbage springing from the little seed covers 
the earth with verdure delightful and refreshing 
to the eye, fatigued with the bright glare of the 
sunbeams ; but this light causes the grass to 
grow, and is necessary that man may obtain 
complete knowledge of material objects, and 
enjoy the beauty spread in profusion upon the 
earth and heavens. Soon this enjoyment is 
marred, for the heavy clouds hide the fair skies, 
the light is obscured, and a shadow is cast over 
every object. The rains descend, the torrents 
rise, man and beast withdraw shivering and 
comfortless to their shelter. But the raging of 
the storm now ceases ; the blue heavens ap- 
pear far beyond the scudding clouds, and balmy 
breezes, with healthful influences, soon efface 
all traces of the tempest. Now the sweet song- 
sters emerge from their leafy coverts, tuning 
high their melody, while they refresh their swel- 
ling throats with the sparkling rain-drops, and 
flap their little wings in the cooling breeze. The 
cattle low with desire as they hasten to the fresh 



238 REASON AND UNDERSTANDING. 

washed pasture, and bathe their dusty coats in 
the overflowing rivulets. Man again breathes 
freely in an atmosphere cleared from its noxious 
vapours, and rejoices in the perfume of the 
brightening flowers, and the prospect of abun- 
dant harvests. Here understanding perceives 
desirable effects resulting from undesirable 
causes ; but reason ascending from cause to 
cause, discovers the Infinite Designer, the First 
Great Cause, the Wise and Good, adapting all 
for use and happiness. 

Imagination may here go back to the creation 
of all things, and figure to itself a period be- 
yond, a period when created intelligences were 
not ; and here Reason reels upon its throne, 
when it contemplates the Uncreated One in 
solitary grandeur. Conception fails ; but Rea- 
son maintains the necessary existence of the 
First Great Cause. 

But Reason stops not here, for it turns its 
vision upon itself and discovers in the light of 
Consciousness, the thinking, active feeling soul, 
in solemn relation to its Creator, with affections 
alienated from Him. The consequence per- 
ceived must be exposure to the retributions of 
Divine Justice. Here is the religion of Nature. 
This is the light in the mind, by which the invis- 
ible things of God from the creation being clearly 
seen, leaves the whole heathen world without 



REASON AND UNDERSTANDING. 239 

excuse. This light has never been extinguished, 
even in the darkest ages of Heathenism. The 
conception of the Deity, has indeed been de- 
formed by the Imagination, and passion has 
trampled upon the moral obligations of man ; 
while his wishes have framed such immortality 
and future judgment as suited his corrupt na- 
ture ; but man has in every clime, in every age, 
and under every circumstance, acknowledged 
a Creating Cause. "A God, a God," has been 
proclaimed by every tongue, for a " God ap- 
pears" in the Heavens above, on the earth be- 
neath, and upon the deep waters that encircle 
it. God speaks in man himself, in his wonder- 
fully organized frame, in his godlike intellect, 
and moral nature. Reason is the voice of God 
within him that continues to enquire, " Where 
art thou" ? what rank dost thou hold in creation, 
and why hidest thou thyself from thy Creator ? 
Conscience cries in the silent hour of night, in 
the season of peril, at »the approach of death 
" What hast thou done ? the blood of thy injured 
brother, of thy injured soul cries to me from the 
ground." 

In the hideous imagery of the Hindoo we per- 
ceive his idea of overwhelming Power. Cast- 
ing himself beneath the crushing wheels of his 
bloody idol, we find the acknowledgment of 
subjection to this Power ; and when the waves 



240 REASON AND UNDERSTANDING. 

of the Ganges circle in eddies over the form of 
his drowning offspring, the cry of nature in his 
heart is, "I have sinned, will God accept the 
fruit of my body for the sin of my soul ?" His 
rational conscience exhibits to him the deprav- 
ity of his nature, the immortality of his soul, 
and the retributive justice of his God. 

The learned Greeks, though they raised altars 
to the Unknown God, despised and condemned 
the man who doubted his existence. Plato 
regarded three crimes equally punishable with 
death ; the first denying the existence of a Deity, 
or God, the second denying that they care for 
men ; the third attempting to propitiate the 
Gods toward criminal conduct, making these 
pure beings accomplices in crime. " Better," 
said Plutarch, " be convinced by Plato that the 
world was made by God, for the world is the 
most excellent of all created things, and He the 
best of all causes." " Let us, said Plato, choose 
the best human reason and sitting on it like a 
raft, pass through the dangers of life ; unless 
some one can pass us over more easily and safely 
upon some stronger vehicle or divine word." 

Here is the highest stretch of human reason, 
doubting its own ability to pass safely through 
the dangers of life, it looks up to some stronger 
vehicle, some divine revelation ; and standing 
in the person of the Centurion, amid the agonies 



REASON AND UNDERSTANDING. 241 

and wonders of Calvary, it exclaimed, " Truly 
this was the Son of God !" 

"The fool hath said in his heart there is no 
God ;" no soul, no immortality. Truly does the 
Divine Word call such an one a " fool," though 
he may perchance have walked among the 
learned, and ranked among the wise, yet so 
far has he departed from rationality, as to 
" speak evil of the things he understands not," 
and gravely utter the greatest absurdities. He 
dares declare, and unblushingly, in the face of 
reasonable men, that " the external world does 
not exist ; or at least its existence may be rea- 
sonably doubted. That the universe exists in 
the mind and the mind does not really exist ; 
that man in all his perceptions, actions and voli- 
tions is a mere passive machine, and has no sep- 
arate existence of his own, being entirely made 
up of other things, of the existence of which he 
is by no means certain. That as the existence 
of the external world is questionable, we are at 
a loss to find arguments by which we may prove 
the existence of the Supreme Being or any of His 
attributes," and to prove that he utterly rejects 
reason, he says, " We ought to doubt of every 
thing ; the utmost that philosophy can do, is to 
give us a doubtful solution of doubtful doubts."* 

* Extracted from a Summary of Hume's Doctrines, 
published before his death, given by Dr. Brownlee. 
16 



242 REASON AND UNDERSTANDING. 

I would not my friends shock you with a re- 
capitulation of these absurdities, were it not that 
in some form or other they may in future pre- 
sent themselves to you ; and doubtless you are 
now ready to ask, how, if man be furnished with 
reason as has just been asserted, can he possi- 
bly frame such absurdities ? 

" The spirit of a man is the candle of the 
Lord, and it was Eternal Truth that lighted 
this candle."* The reason of man at his crea- 
tion reflected the Supreme Intelligence, Truth 
necessary and eternal ; but when in an evil hour 
his sensual conception took in the beauty, and 
his imagination the deliciousness of the only for- 
bidden object in creation, desire for it sprung 
up in his mind. Then the " Understanding be- 
coming darkened," aspired after a knowledge 
higher than the simple truth with which the 
Creator in infinite wisdom had been pleased to 
furnish it. Here commenced a departure from 
the dictates of true wisdom or reason ; the rea- 
sonings of the sensual mind or understanding 
took its place, probabilities were admitted ; 
comparisons between the Almighty and the 
creature of His power were ventured, and the 
subtle sophistry of doubting the Divine Word, 
ended in charging falsehood upon the God of 
Truth. From this time, given over to mental 
* Henry. 



REASON AND UNDEESTANDING. 243 

delusion, the perverted mind of man has sought 
out its own devices, and been filled with false 
and foolish imaginings ; it judges by sense and 
experience, and Reason though forced like Ba- 
laam, the wicked prophet to witness to the truth, 
yet glad is the sensual understanding to turn 
away, seeking for it other altars, if so be other 
testimony may be granted ; and in cowardly and 
unhallowed allegiance, does Reason submit to 
the proud dominion of the understanding. 

Blessed be the Father of Spirits, who at the 
creation of man, bestowed upon him the attribute 
of reason — reason which though humbled and 
fallen, cannot believe contradictions even when 
glossed over by the sophistry of science, falsely 
so called. The Atheist indeed in the perversity 
of his Will, so abuses his reason as to render it 
a slave to his desires. The Deist with " darkened 
understanding," "not liking to retain God in his 
thoughts," " changes His truth into a lie," and 
defaces the " glory of the incorruptible God" 
by fashioning His moral attributes after His 
own vain imagination, robbing Him of the sove- 
reignty of His Justice and his Mercy. Such 
persons have altered in their own judgments 
the immutable principles of right, and com- 
paring the Holy and the Just One with them- 
selves, and their own desires of good, they form 
a code of morality at variance, both with the 



244 REASON AND UNDERSTANDING. 

dictates of reason and the commands of the 
Divine Law. 

But the godlike nature of man will not suffer 
him to rest in quiet subjection to his sensual 
understanding. Genius may exalt him to the 
highest pinnacle of fame, and in his prosperity 
he may call " evil good, and good evil." He 
may discard the Divine Word as a fable and 
worship Reason as a goddess, but when flesh 
and heart are failing, with Voltaire and Dide- 
rot he will turn to the ministers of that religion, 
he affected to despise. The man whose phi- 
losophy gives nothing to him but a doubtful 
solution of doubtful doubts, will at last exclaim, 
" I am confounded and affrighted at the forlorn 
solitude in which I am placed by my philos- 
ophy. When I look abroad I see on every side 
dispute, contradiction and distraction. When 
I turn my eye inward, I find nothing but doubt 
and ignorance. Where am I, or what i From 
what causes do I derive my existence and to 
what condition shall I return ? I am confounded 
with these questions, and begin to fancy myself 
in the most deplorable condition imaginable, 
environed with the deepest darkness."* 

The Earl of Rochester, through his love of 
pleasure and wit, had so sported with all the 
moral and sacred duties of life that he was 

* Hume's Treatise on Hum. Nat., quoted by Dr. Dick. 



REASON AND UNDERSTANDING. 245 

almost ready to affirm with the fool, " there is 
no God;" but as he afterwards declared, "that 
he had never known an entire Atheist, who fully 
believed there was no God," he had always 
some impressions of a Supreme Being, though 
his notion of Him amounted to no more than 
that of a vast power, with none of the attributes 
of goodness and justice we ascribe to the Deity. 
His moral sense was so debased that he freely 
owned to Bishop Burnet, for whom he sent when 
taken ill, that when he talked of morality it was 
only as a decent way of speaking. The Earl 
was a learned and accomplished man, and be- 
came convinced of the immortality of his soul, 
through the fact that when his body was low 
and weak, his reason and judgment were clear 
and strong. His illness was protracted, and 
pious Bishop Burnet so forcibly set before him 
the truth, that although the sophistry of his per- 
verted mind long resisted, it at length was aban- 
doned, and Lord Rochester acknowledged that 
he saw vice and impiety were as contrary to 
human society, as wild beasts let loose would 
be ; and therefore he firmly resolved to change 
the whole course of his life, to become strictly 
just and true, to be chaste and temperate, to 
forbear swearing and irreligious discourse, to 
worship and pray to his Maker.* So far did 
* Bishop Burnet's account of the Earl of Rochester 



246 REASON AND UNDERSTANDING. 

the reason of this profligate nobleman carry 
him, but it did not convince him of the truth of 
Christianity. His religion at this period was 
what is called the religion of Nature. The sequel 
of his story remains to be told you at some future 
time. What follows of it relates to Conscience 
and the influence of the Holy Spirit. 

Many seem to believe that mere reason is suf- 
ficient to set the mind right in respect to duty, 
forgetting that reason, as it now is, subjected to 
the depraved and blinded understanding, and 
overruled by obstinate will and lawless passion, 
can never be to us a perfect guide. Without 
referring to the Divine Word, there is suffi- 
cient evidence of this in the various conflicting 
opinions among the wisest and the best of man- 
kind, who profess each one for himself to be 
guided by reason and by conscience. If in the 
matters that concern this world the best regu- 
lated minds are not infallible in judgment, how 
can it be supposed that human intelligence, can 
of itself, clearly discover moral relations, or so 
discovering, be trusted as a perfect guide ? The 
experience and wisdom of ages is necessary be- 
fore any one art or science can be brought to 
what may be called, by us, in our limited view 
of things, a state approaching perfection. How 
then, can we, in the appalling view of a Holy 
and Just God, and an eternal state of retribu- 



REASON AND UNDERSTANDING. 247 

lion, venture to trust to the feebleness of our own 
reason, the subduing and renewing of that most 
unmanageable of all things, our own Will ! 
Reason may convey us near the gate of Heaven, 
but it cannot disarm the Hand that carries the 
flaming sword. It may enquire, " what shall I 
do to inherit eternal life ?" but the reply, " sell 
all that thou hast," give up thy proud aspirings 
and follow the meek and lowly One, will send 
it away disquieted. 

At the death of Mrs. Grant, a late missionary 
to Persia, whose wisdom and piety were of the 
highest order, "our Mahommedan Meerza, says 
Dr. Grant, wept repeatedly like a child, and 
said he should never forget the words of wis- 
dom Mrs. Grant had taught him ; that she had 
very much righteousness, and had gone to par- 
adise." Here, among these people, that reason 
thus enlightens, all is consternation and dismay 
when death approaches. But what is it that 
cheers this tender female in the hour of dissolv- 
ing nature, filling her whole soul with inexpres- 
sible peace and rapture ! " She had faith in 
Jesus," said the Meerza. This is the expres- 
sive answer of a follower of Mohammed.* 

Reason believes and trembles in the presence 
of Infinite Wisdom and Power, but it does not 
love. Human reason cannot love Infinite pu- 

* Taken from a Letter of Dr. Grant. Miss. Herald. 



248 REASON AND UNDERSTANDING. 

rity, for it belongs to a corrupt nature. The 
corrupt understanding may sometimes scoff at 
the " great things that God does, which it can- 
not comprehend," yet no mystery of Revelation 
is too hard to be admitted by reason ; and all 
the precepts and commands of God must by it 
be approved, for they are true to the character 
of an all perfect Being. They cannot be other- 
wise than they are. Reason must acquiesce, 
for it does not admit absurdity. There are in- 
deed mysteries which the Infinite Intelligence 
or Reason did not judge fit to bring down to 
finite creatures. To such mysteries whether 
we find them in nature or in Redemption, let 
us bow in adoring silence. Reason tells us 
there must be such mysteries, it is the sensual 
mind or understanding that rebels. 

My young friends, I pray you examine this 
subject. Many of you are now cavilling against 
Divine Truth, or some part of it. But " do 
yourselves no harm ;" use not the reasonings 
of sense to your own undoing ; for thus will you 
be like children who play with edged instru- 
ments to their destruction. Look within, rea- 
son convinces you of an immortal nature ; look 
up, it points out an Almighty Creator ; look 
abroad, it shows an accountability begun in this 
world where you are subjected to the laws of 
vour fellows. Look once more within, for con- 



JUDGMENT. 249 

science assures you of judgment hereafter. 
Listen then to this voice within you and seek 
that Truth which alone can clear up the dark- 
ened light of nature ; the light which " though 
sullied and dishonoured is still divine." Seek 
the Spirit of Truth, whom the world cannot 
receive, because it seeth Him not." Human 
Reason cannot see Him, but Faith can, and 
faith is the gift of God. '• Faith childlike and 
submissive sits at the feet of Him, who is the 
Life and the Light of the world. All beside is 
darkness. To this perfect Reason must we 
apply, bankrupt as we are ; no one of us can 
supply his neighbour ; but in God there is full- 
ness of wisdom, and He giveth freely to all who 
ask, and upbraideth not. 



CHAPTER XL 



JUDGMENT. 



Reason is that attribute in the mind of man 
which distinguishes him from all the tribes of 
the animal creation. By it he knows his own 
existence and its continuance ; also the neces- 
sary and essential relations of things, or causes 
and effects. He knows the First Cause of all 



250 JUDGMENT. 

things, and his own relation to Him as a rea- 
sonable, immortal, and accountable being ; and 
as a consequence of this, he knows there is a 
future state of existence, with reward and 
punishment annexed to present actions. This 
knowledge, or belief, if we may so call it, is 
intuitive in the human mind ; it is the property, 
in degree, of the blind and the deaf, of the child 
and the savage, and thus it is that " man is 
equal to man ;" thus is he allied to high intelli- 
gences, and to God himself. 

But besides being immaterial, immortal and 
accountable in his nature, man is earthly, sen- 
sitive and perishable. To fit him for his exis- 
tence on earth, he is provided with senses which 
give to him a knowledge of the objects that sur- 
round him, and understanding whereby he may 
turn them to the best account in his own pres- 
ervation and happiness. Before the mind is 
sufficiently developed to perform its office prop- 
erly, this knowledge is instinctive, as in the 
infant. As this developement takes place the 
understanding makes him acquainted with what- 
ever comes under the cognizance of the senses, 
and co-operating with reason, carries on its vol- 
untary action, in attention, memory, conception, 
association, reflection. Thus does the mind 
encrease in knowledge as it advances in expe- 
rience, and become prepared for the higher and 



JUDGMENT. 251 

more delicate operations of abstraction, judg- 
ment and imagination. 

Brutes have an instinct that amounts to some- 
thing very like understanding in men. This 
has already been noticed, but as a considera- 
tion of the fact may assist in the explanation of 
this part of our subject, it will not be amiss here 
to introduce some particulars. Many animals, 
especially those that seem to be intended for 
domestic service, such as the horse, and the 
dog, often display in their actions something 
very like that act of the understanding, called 
judgment. A cow will learn to unlatch a gate, 
a dog to shut a door, or go on errands. Lord 
Brougham in his Dissertation on Science, men- 
tions the instinct of wild horses in the forests of 
Tartary and South America, where they are in 
large herds. These animals seem to have an 
instinctive knowledge of their exposure to be 
taken, and that their only refuge is in flight. 
While they sleep, each one of the drove, in rota- 
tion, acts as sentinel ; and if a man approaches, 
the sentinel walks towards him, as if to deter 
him ; should the man advance, he neighs aloud, 
in a peculiar tone, which rouses the herd, and 
they all gallop off; the sentinel bringing up the 
rear. Dogs learn to distinguish time. One be- 
longing to a farmer, was shut up at home on 
Sunday, while the family attended church at 



252 JUDGMENT. 

some distance. When the morning came, the 
dog would leave the house at an early hour, and 
going through the wood, meet the family car- 
riage at a cross-road. A dog in this village who 
had been trained to watch his master's garden 
on the Sabbath, on being transferred to another, 
regularly left his new habitation on Sunday 
morning, to watch in his accustomed manner, 
his former owner's garden. 

In these instances, and in many others that 
might be produced, we see in brute animals 
something so very like understanding in man, 
that there are not wanting those who say, " if 
this be called instinct, then all the actions of 
human beings are impelled by instinct." I di- 
rect your attention to this, in order that we may 
make a proper discrimination between the ope- 
ration of "judging according to sense," and 
reason, the attribute which distinguishes the 
human intellect from that of the mere sensitive 
animal. In all the works of nature, we find 
adaptation, that is a correspondence between 
the nature of the being and the state in which 
it is placed. Thus in common instances, the 
parts in different classes of animals are adapted 
to the elements in which they live. Birds have 
wings by which they raise and sustain them- 
selves in the air, their proper element; fish have 
fins by which they propel themselves in the 



JUDGMENT. 253 

water. Quadrupeds, which inhabit the earth, 
are fitted by their organs for their manner of 
life. They have limbs formed for flight and for 
pursuit ; they have mouths adapted to browze 
the herbage, or teeth for tearing the prey. 
Those which live in colder climates have wool 
to keep them warm, those inhabiting warm lati- 
tudes are covered with a light coat of hair. The 
round silky form of the mole is adapted to the 
pathway he traces for himself under the ground ; 
the stomach of the camel, provided with cavi- 
ties to contain a large quantity of water, to liv- 
ing in the desert where he travels, often many 
days, without meeting with a spring at which 
to quench his thirst. 

Animals are also adapted by their instinct for 
their different modes of existence. The oyster 
barely opens its shell to receive nourishment; 
the caterpiller crawls from plant to plant until 
it finds the one destined for its support ; the bird 
of prey soars high in the air, watching the de- 
fenceless being that serves- it for food, and then 
darts swiftly upon it. The bee, the ant and the 
beaver, with wonderful art, contrive their habi- 
tations and provide for their future wants ; the 
ox and the horse accommodate themselves to 
the labours or to the pleasures of man, whose 
servants they are ; while the dog destined to be 
his companion, seems by his superior intelli- 



254 JUDGMENT. 

gence and his social nature to be worthy a place 
at the hospitable fireside of his master. These 
creatures seem intended for this earth alone, in 
them we see no signs of reason or of a moral 
nature ; that is, they give no evidence whereby 
we judge they have a " beholding of necessary 
or spiritual truth 5" but they possess the instinct 
or intelligence by which each tribe is adapted 
to the particular station allotted to it by the 
Creator. 

Man, also, by his organic frame and by the 
constitution of his mind is adapted to the situa- 
tion assigned him in creation. Intended to oc- 
cupy for a time a place in this material world, 
but ultimately to exist in a state very different 
and far superior to the present, where the or- 
ganic senses shall not be needed in the opera- 
tions of the immaterial soul ; he is fitted by the 
understanding which acts through the senses, 
to obtain the knowledge that belongs to earth, 
as well as by its higher operation in judgment 
to fill with propriety his station, so that his com- 
fort, and in a measure his happiness, here, may 
be ensured. In this his reason and his moral 
sense, the attributes of his immortal nature, 
assist him. 

My young friends, we are placed in this world 
surrounded by difficulties and dangers, some of 
these arising from our own state as sentient be- 



JUDGMENT. 255 

ings, by which we are subjected to the neces- 
sity of supplying our daily wants, and to sen- 
sations, emotions and passions that often lead 
us astray ; as well as to disease and death the 
consequents of mortality. Other difficulties re- 
sult from the circumstances that connect us to 
our fellow creatures, by which we suffer from 
their passions, and their prejudices, as well as 
from their injustice. This being our condition, we 
perceive at once that to be adapted to it we 
need some mental ability that will enable us to 
" foresee the evil and hide" ourselves from it. 
Animals have an instinctive foresight of danger, 
they know when the enemy is near and take to 
flight. Being surrounded by innumerable dif- 
ficulties and dangers, we need foresight in a 
superior degree. We are indeed endowed, 
richly endowed with Reason, by which we judge 
of universal, necessary and moral truth, but 
this seems not completely adapted to the minu- 
tiae of every day life ; it looks too much at what 
is general and abstract ; we need a " reflective 
and discursive, or mediate apprehension, con- 
tained within the sphere of the senses, operating 
by sensible experience, that gives rise to max- 
ims or rules," proper to govern the common 
concerns of life. Let us call this operation of 
the understanding, Judgment. 

Judgment operates by means of observation, 



256 JUDGMENT. 

experience and reflection. Though it depends 
mostly upon the understanding, yet it is in 
proper exercise only, when guided by Reason 
and Revelation. Then indeed does man dis- 
tinguish himself from the highest order among 
the brutal trihes, showing himself made, not 
only more excellent in his earthly nature than 
they, and fitted to exercise dominion over them ; 
but possessed of a mental constitution wholly 
different from theirs, and intended for a state 
inconceivably more exalted than the one he now 
occupies. 

Every decision, implying belief, whether 
made in the mind, or pronounced by the voice 
is called a judgment, and is founded on some 
evidence. We believe what comes under the 
notice of the senses, unless reason testifies 
against it, as in the case of the gentleman who 
was, as it seemed, followed every where by a 
blue dog. The optical delusion was so strong 
and so unpleasant, that although the gentleman 
himself knew that it was a disorder of the optic 
nerve, he got into bed and covered his head to 
shut out the phantasm. When a straight stick 
is plunged into water, it appears crooked, but 
we can easily obtain a correct judgment by ex- 
amination. A steeple which seems, by reason 
of its distance, but a few feet in height, we find 
by measurement to be fifty ; thus bringing one 



JUDGMENT. 257 

sense to the assistance of another, we prove 
that we do not suppose this evidence to be fal- 
lacious. Reason would no more permit us to 
doubt the existence of the objects around us, 
than to doubt our own existence. To doubt 
upon touch of the coldness of ice or the heat of 
fire, is impossible. To doubt that sugar is sweet, 
that vinegar is sour, or that a bell is ringing, is 
equally impossible. The mind assents to the 
existence of bodies and their qualities through 
the evidence of the senses. Of this belief the 
mind itself is conscious, and thus does thought 
and reasoning attest so strongly to a thinking, 
reasoning power called soul, that all the argu- 
ments of Atheism will never convince a man 
that he is no more than a clod of earth, or a 
moving mass of flesh and bones. 

As perception external and internal gives evi- 
dence of the present, so memory keeps a record 
of the past, furnishing the mind with such ex- 
perience as seems indispensable in forming its 
judgments, and giving it a foresight necessary 
in making a proper provision for the future. 
Creatures without reason are endued with in- 
stinctive foresight, they need no experience. 
The canary hatched a prisoner, and confined to 
its cage, will in due time, set about building its 
nest, without example or instruction. But the 

human intellect, progressive in its developement, 
17 



258 JUDGMENT. 

needs the knowledge to be derived from the 
senses, from the information of others, and from 
reflection ; and this is in great measure its vol- 
untary act, because depending on attention. 
Hence the difference between the young and 
the aged, between those nations still uncivilized, 
and those, where the knowledge and experience 
of ages have for ages been accumulating. 

To be enabled to judge correctly, we must 
prepare ourselves by careful observation. Per- 
sons of sound judgment are accurate observers ; 
they examine objects and subjects as well in 
their general outline as in their particular de- 
tail. For instance, the man of medical skill and 
science, would apply his mind not only to the 
general principles and facts connected with 
medicine, but also to the principles and facts of 
natural science, embracing the several branches 
of Physiology, Chemistry, and Botany; as well as 
to the History of medical science, and to the ex- 
perience of its ablest practitioners. With all this 
knowledge, he would with modesty, humility 
rather, acknowledge that he knew but little ; and 
feel willing to make research after what remains 
for discovery. The opinion of a man of such 
investigation and such candour, will always 
meet with deference from his fellow men ; they 
put confidence in his judgment. 

The case of this physician is but an illustra- 



JUDGMENT, 259 

tion ; look at another in Benjamin Franklin. 
Being cast off and persecuted by his relatives, 
he was so poor that he found himself in Phila- 
delphia, a stranger, with a roll of bread under 
his arm and a dollar in his pocket ; yet by his 
industry, frugality, activity and intelligence, he 
rose from one grade of life to another, until by 
his plans for improving the country, and his offi- 
cial services, he made himself an object of atten- 
tion to the whole community. His advice was 
asked by the governor and council on all impor- 
tant occasions. In after years, he was by Lord 
Chatham characterized as one, whom all Europe 
held in high estimation for his knowledge and 
wisdom ; who was an honour to human nature. 
Franklin was remarkable for his observation. 
He studied the sciences, and he studied man- 
kind. He searched into the principles of ac- 
tions, and he examined actions themselves ; and 
while he qualified himself to direct the affairs of 
nations, he disdained not to write maxims to 
regulate the household economy of the poor. 

No one can be called a judge of any thing, 
or subject, who has not given it the best pos- 
sible attention ; to give it a partial notice 
may lead into error. To illustrate this, take 
the well known story of the gold and silver 
shield. Two knights armed and equipped, ap- 
proached from different ways, a shield suspended 



260 JUDGMENT. 

upon a high road. One, as he drew nigh, ex- 
claimed, " how beautiful is yon golden shield." 
" You are mistaken said the other, the shield is 
silver ;" whereupon a quarrel ensued, aud the 
champions of these different opinions, couched 
their lances, and were about to do bloody bat- 
tle. A third knight came by and called upon 
them to stop. " You are both right, said he, 
and yet both wrong ; turn your horses and ex- 
amine both sides of the shield." This done they 
discovered that one side of it was gold, the other 
silver. Thus it is with those who do not thor- 
oughly investigate before they pretend to judge. 
I believe, or I do not believe ; 1 think so ;. I am 
sure of it ; is continually in the mouth of the 
ignorant who decide without any proper foun- 
dation for their opinions. There are even those 
who would not on any account be convinced of 
error ; they shut their eyes lest they should see 
something to alter their views of a subject ; they 
have believed a thing so long that the trial to 
give up such an opinion could not be endured ; 
they prefer the quarrel about the shield all their 
lives, to the shame of making the acknowledg- 
ment that they have been mistaken. 

For want of general as well as particular views 
of truth, persons, who are accounted great and 
learned, sometimes fall into grievous errors. 
The king of Siam considered it an affront to 



JUDGMENT. 261 

his understanding when told that water would 
become hard ; had he been acquainted with 
natural science, the assurance of this fact would 
have given him pleasure. It is said that the 
learned Dr. S. Johnson was a superstitious be- 
liever in ghosts and second sight. His biogra- 
pher says "that he had the habit when going in 
or out of a door, to count the steps from a cer- 
tain point, so that either his right or left foot, 
(I am not certain which,) should constantly 
make the first actual movement when he came 
close to the door or passage." He was observed 
to do this with great earnestness, going back 
and recounting the steps when he had made a 
mistake ; perhaps from some such notion of good 
or ill luck, as might induce a person to wear a 
garment on the wrong side which had thus acci- 
dentally been put on ; or to be careful to look at 
the moon over the right shoulder. Dr. Johnson, 
though great in literary attainments was igno- 
rant in natural science, and was either an af- 
fected or real despiser of it.* With great men- 
tal powers and splendid accomplishments, his 
views on certain subjects must have been very 
limited, else would he not have asserted that, 
" Education is as well known, and has long been 
as well known, as it ever can be." Says Stew- 
art, from whom part of this account is taken, 
• Dick on the Improvement of Society. 



2§2 JUDGMENT. 

" They who know the value of a well regulated 
and unclouded mind, would not incur the weak- 
ness and wretchedness exhibited in the fore- 
going description, for all his literary acquire- 
ments and literary fame." 

The brute is guided by his instinct, man by 
his reason. Some animals as in the cases already 
related, act with observation and experience, 
though always in reference to their instinctive 
propensities ; as in the case of the dog devising 
means to gratify his social nature. Why should 
not man as wisely bring his observation and 
experience into co-operation with his reason ? 
When he contends that the things of which his 
mind, through the senses, perceives the existence, 
exist only in the mind, or that the mind has no 
perception without the senses, reason flatly con- 
tradicts him. Why does a man presume to 
assert of the Universe, that it came into exist- 
ence without an Intelligent Cause, when he 
would feel offended were you to tell him that 
a common globe, with its geographical lines 
and circles, took such form and marks, without 
a designing hand ? 

And in the examination of the works of crea- 
tion, would it not be wise to use the under- 
standing rationally? How wonderful is the 
simplicity every where discoverable in natural 
operations. The dews of heaven, the rays of 



JUDGMENT. 263 

the sun and the surrounding atmosphere pro- 
duce vegetation, and thus also is animal life 
sustained. By the force of attraction like par- 
ticles unite with each other, and form solid 
bodies ; by repulsion these bodies are kept asun- 
der, so that the universe becomes not a solid 
mass ; while the counter-operation of these two 
forces sets in motion the whole sidereal system. 
The circulating fluids, derived from the nour- 
ishment received by the body, sustain its ani- 
mal life, while the muscles and nerves in some 
way produce its movements. In contemplating 
the beautiful simplicity every where seen in the 
works of the Creator, how can the rational un- 
derstanding frame to itself thirty-three different 
faculties, corresponding with as many visible 
organs, operating in the production of mental 
and moral life ? Reason teaches that the im- 
material spiritual essence cannot be moulded 
in a material form. Consciousness asserts that 
the mind is indivisible, each act being an act in 
which the whole mental power is concerned ; 
how then can the soul be set out in parts and 
measured in its attributes f " Who would not 
smile, at an ounce of truth, or a square foot of 
honour?" though it has now become fashionable 
to call self-esteem, veneration and other acts of 
the mind large or small, assigning to each a sep- 
arate organ. 



264 JUDGMENT. 

It was a momentous enquiry, " Where shall 
wisdom be found, and where is the place of 
understanding ?" There are indeed those " who 
darken counsel by words," of whom the Al- 
mighty will demand, "Where wast thou when I 
I laid the foundation of the earth ? declare, if 
thou hast understanding. Who hath put wisdom 
in the inward parts, or who hath given under- 
standing to the heart ?" Read, 1 pray you, with 
care, and reflection, the last chapters of the Book 
of Job, beginning with the thirty-eighth. You 
will there have overwhelming evidence, that 
man with all his research, knows, as yet, but 
little of the works of the Almighty, and that 
there are parts of His works the human mind 
can never understand. There will you learn 
that God has a particular purpose in the forma- 
tion of every creature of His power, from the 
feeblest irrational being, to the powerful Levia- 
than, "who esteemeth iron as straw, and brass 
as rotten wood." Each one by his peculiar in- 
stinct is fitted for the particular station assigned 
to him. To all has God given needful under- 
standing, but with man alone does He conde- 
scend to reason. Let Reason then, that pre- 
cious gift, bestowed upon those who are made 
"but little lower than the angels," be brought 
to the Light of that Revelation, given by Him 
who was made so much better than the angels ; 



JUDGMENT. 265 

let it admit the full weight of a testimony that 
sets the human intellect in contra-distinction 
from the brute, elevating it to a rank that might 
seem desirable to the noblest ambition. " The 
ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his master's 
crib," but man in the pride of his alienation from 
God, prefers to drink from the Herculean cup 
of sensual wisdom, lowering his exalted nature 
nearly to the level of the mere animal; thus 
striving to divest himself of his accountability. 

" Error, says Cecil, is never solitary, it is al- 
ways attended by a thousand others." Error 
is a fault in judgment originating in ignorance 
or in wrong feeling ; thus is prejudice produced 
in the mind very early in life, giving a colouring 
to the opinions, and a stamp to the character, 
never to be effaced. In childhood the partially 
developed mind submits itself to the knowledge 
and experience of minds more mature. This 
is right and in accordance with the promptings 
, of nature and the laws of God. Happy would 
it be for the world if the directors and instruct- 
ors of the young were more careful to qualify 
themselves to train up to correct habits of thought 
those who thus depend upon them ; then would 
error not be perpetuated from generation to 
generation. During this period of life error and 
prejudice most readily spring up in the trusting 
and feeling soul. The mind is then unfurnished 



266 JUDGMENT. 

by observation and experience to combat it, and 
its ardent affections prompt it to receive as truth 
whatever proceeds from the lips of the tenderest 
objects of its love. Witness the deep interest 
with which an affectionate, and sensible child 
often listens to the tale of superstition, or the 
silly flight of fancy from a kind, ill-judging nurse ; 
and in after years when the ripened intellect 
would decide otherwise, the association is still 
there. This is peculiarly the case with our 
own sex whose limited education does not so 
often afford the means of rectifying these errors. 
Many a woman who might have become an 
ornament to society, passes through life a slave 
to the narrow prejudices imbibed in her earliest 
years through the warm emotions of her heart. 
Many a man has become a sceptic from having 
had his education directed by those whose prin- 
ciples were loose, whose habits were irregular, 
and whose conduct was unchristian. How often 
does the erring father draw his son with him 
into the vortex of ruin ; and the infidel husband 
work the destruction of his confiding and loving 
wife. 

An attractive object is, to the young, fre- 
quently invested with imaginary excellencies ; 
and the mind is thus led to make such se- 
lections in friendship and in other relationship 
as may render the future a scene of unhappi- 



JUDGMENT, 267 

ness. La Martine says ; " At first sight, at a 
glance, I have judged of a man or a woman for 
ever; reason, reflection, even violence attempted 
against these. first impressions, avail nothing. 
When the bronze has received its imprint, in 
vain may you turn and twist it in your fingers, 
it retains the form. Thus with my soul, thus 
with my mind." This sort of instinctive judg- 
ment is not uncommon with young persons of 
ardent temperament, but it often is most unjust, 
as experience will testify. The beautiful are 
not always the good, the attractive not always 
the excellent. Many however, like the French 
traveller, make a boast of such prejudices-; 
though a cultivated understanding would teach 
them, that to judge without reflection, and in 
this judgment to offer an insult to reason, marks 
a little more than weakness ; it is a species of 
immorality. Should we suffer such preposses- 
sions to influence our conduct towards others, 
we should act a most unchristian part. The 
most unpromising exterior not unfrequently con- 
ceals a character of the highest merit. • It is 
related that at a levee of George III. of Eng- 
land, a lady was remarked in an attire not at 
all comporting with the brilliancy and splen- 
dour of such an occasion. A gentleman, prob- 
ably a stranger, took offence at what he consid- 
ered an indecorum, and said quite aloud ; "I 



268 JUDGMENT. 

wonder who that old woman can be that ap- 
pears in this august presence in so mean a 
gown ?" The king who was within hearing, 
turned and said ; " Sir, at the hour of death I 
should desire to cling to the robe which covers 
that noble soul. That lady is the Countess of 
Huntington." 

Many of our prejudices originate in our igno- 
rance. Persons who have seen little, heard 
little, and read little, often mistake grossly with 
respect to themselves and others. With them 
literally " there is no place like home." This 
is not only the sentiment of the heart, but the 
opinion or judgment of the mind. They, and 
their own family, know more, are more impor- 
tant and a little better than their neighbours. 
This judgment is detected in their conversation, 
where self is always prominent; their own opin- 
ions delivered in a positive tone, the sensible 
and witty remarks of their children, with the 
maxims of their fathers are intruded every where. 
Their own misfortunes are greater than those 
endured by others, and in the matter of interest, 
they have no idea that others will presume to 
come into a competition. Should such persons 
visit foreign countries, they will hold in sove- 
reign contempt every departure from the cus- 
toms and manners of their own nation. They 
have set up their own country as a pattern after 



JUDGMENT. 269 

which other nations are to fashion themselves, 
and they feel outraged that any presume to shape 
even their garments in a way not dictated by the 
land pre-eminent. 

When we make ourselves acquainted with 
the world, we find that the 7, myself, is but an 
individual of the great human family ; that there 
are those immeasurably our superiors in know- 
ledge and in wisdom. We shall find that to in- 
duce others to take an interest in our affairs, our 
joys, and sorrows, we must with sympathy enter 
into theirs. A knowledge of history will teach 
us to consider mankind as one great family under 
the government of our common Father ; that 
other individuals, other nations are regarded 
by God as well as we ; that the sun shines as 
brightly upon the inhabitant of China as upon 
us ; that intellectual endowments are not our 
especial gift, nor are the blessings of instruction 
and religion exclusively our own. Such know- 
ledge and the knowledge of the Gospel will 
dispel the narrow-minded prejudice of my own, 
and teach us to understand the meaning of the 
term my neighbour. . *' 

The gloss which fashion puts upon objects, 
upon customs and upon sentiments, so dazzles 
the mind that they are not perceived in their 
true colouring or relations. Deformity is mis- 
taken for beauty, coarseness for delicacy, and 



270 JUDGMENT. 

vulgarity for politeness. "It is fashionable, " 
is admitted as an evidence for elegance in 
costume, for propriety in behaviour, for correct- 
ness in taste, and morality in sentiment. Many 
persons would be more ashamed of being seen 
in an unfashionable dress or with plain people, 
than of being caught in doing a wrong action. 
Some honest labour would raise a blush in their 
faces sooner than unjust dealing. They prefer 
the gaudy affectation of high life, to the sim- 
plicity and modesty that springs from merit 
and religion. Had they a better knowledge of 
the world, that is, of the great world, the truly 
sensible and polite classes of society, they would 
see that these opinions are considered littleness 
by them, and that this attention to the frippe- 
ries of fashion, takes away from their own re- 
spectability, rendering them ridiculous. Those 
who live in palaces would treat with respect the 
plain, honest, intelligent cottager, while they 
pass in contempt the most servile imitators of 
their own fashions. 

Persons frequently fall into a loose way of 
expressing themselves, which may in the end 
lead to erroneous judgment either in themselves 
or in those who are guided by them. Such talk 
of their ill luck ; every thing goes wrong in their 
hands, whatever they undertake is sure to fail; 
if they go out k will certainly rain ; they carry 



JUDGMENT. 271 

a storm or perhaps fair weather wherever they 
go. Others in a sort of despondence exclaim, 

"Oh ! ever from my childhood's hour, 
I've seen my fondest hopes decay ; 

I never lov'd a tree or flower, 
But 'twas the first to fade away. 

I never nurs'd a dear gazelle 

To glad me with its soft black eye, 

But when it came to know me well, 
And love me, it was sure to die." 

Thus do they give themselves and their own 
affairs great importance, almost presuming that 
nature is turned from its accustomed course, 
that they may be the marked subjects of a sort 
of miraculous dispensation ; forgetting that even 
in the most fiery trials we are enjoined to re- 
member "that no strange thing happens to us," 
but that all events are in accordance with the 
wise design of a general Providence. 

Some from a few facts form a general judg- 
ment. They attribute to a family or even a 
whole nation the defects they have noticed in 
some individual of that family or nation. With 
some persons every Englishman is stiff and taci- 
turn, every Frenchman gay and trifling, every 
American curious and intruding. Those who 
thus judge, found their opinions upon what they 
have heard or the few examples they have seen, 
and have not learned to discriminate between 



272 JUDGMENT. , 

the habits established among the populace for 
want of education, and the refinement we meet 
with in every nation, arising from cultivated 
intellect. Should they meet with any, who, 
making a profession of piety are morose in their 
temper, penurious in their habits, or uncharit- 
able in their dealings, they attribute these de- 
fects to religion itself, not discriminating be- 
tween the individual and his profession. Rea- 
son itself, would teach them that the religion 
which proceeds from a Being, whom they allow 
to be perfect, can never produce such effects in 
its professors ; the cause should be sought else- 
where, and will probably be found in the natural 
propensities, in improper training in infancy and 
youth ; or, more probably, in a lack of spiritual 
piety. 

Wilberforce in his youth was gay, much 
in fashionable society, and remarkable for his 
wit. Being on a journey with a friend, men- 
tion was made of a clergyman of their ac- 
quaintance, whose piety was then uncommon. 
"I think," said Wilberforce, "he carries things 
a great deal too far." His friend replied, " I 
believe you would form a very different estimate 
if you were to read with me carefully the whole 
of the New Testament." Wilberforce took him 
at his word and they perused it together as they 
travelled. This single perusal of the Sacred 



JUDGMENT. 273 

Word was so blessed to Wilberforce, that from 
being the witty songster and the joy of the Don- 
caster races, he became a new man, and Chris- 
tian senator. Truth is mighty and must pre- 
vail wherever fair investigation is applied to it. 

The mind in childhood is rightly subjected to 
the pupilage of parental authority, but as the 
higher operations of thought are added to per- 
ception, conception and association, the young 
in many cases seek emancipation themselves 
from this controul, and judge for themselves. 
Happy for them if they then search for truth with 
careful and unbiassed minds ; and while they 
take lessons in experience, shew themselves 
willing to profit by the counsels and experience 
of those who are more advanced in its school. 
It is indeed to be lamented that at this period 
many a spirited youth looks with contempt upon 
all that is wise and reasonable ; spurning the 
opinions of his elders, he adopts in their stead 
the fine-spun theories which he receives as the 
wisdom of an improved age. The faithful coun- 
sels of his father whom he concludes in his do- 
tage, and the pious warnings of his mother, 
whom he looks upon as silly, are rejected. 

Others quietly sink into the inactivity of an 
indolent disposition, and remain satisfied to be 
guided by the opinions of those whom they in 

dutv and affection reverence. How terrible 

18 



274 JUDGMENT. 

here is the responsibility of the mother, and how 
much and earnestly should she pray for an 
understanding heart. The opinions, perhaps 
unadvisedly expressed, by a mother, will, it 
may be, to her child, be the test through life of 
what is beautiful or good, right or wrong ; and 
in them is laid the foundation of his character, 
his future welfare and happiness. Poor mother, 
how often must you look back in bitterness of 
spirit upon your erring judgment and your un- 
guarded expressions ! " My mother says so, 
and my mother will not say what is not true," 
is often heard from the lip of your child, and 
now, when your unfortunate daughter makes a 
wretched matrimonial choice, does not your 
heart reproach you with the approbation which 
you in her hearing have bestowed upon fash- 
ionable appearance, wealth, and agreeable ex- 
terior though joined to irreligious, even immoral 
character ? And when your son turns out an 
infidel, do you not with horror reflect upon the 
ridicule which in moments of lightness, you 
have in his presence cast upon the homely piety 
of your fellow professors, even upon the dull 
and prosing sermons of your minister ? 

Children should be accustomed to hear the 
truth and the correct reason of things, otherwise 
they will be extravagant in their notions and 
often credulous, even superstitious. The im- 



JUDGMENT. 275 

probable stories with which their little libraries 
teem, set out with the attraction of ridiculous 
and gaudy prints, tend to distort their imagina- 
tions and warp their judgments. They are, to 
say the least, in exceedingly bad taste. Chil- 
dren are naturally confiding and believe every 
thing told them by those they love, but having 
been often deceived in things that by older 
friends are considered of no moment, they lose 
the lovely uprightness of infancy, and having 
learned to set no value upon truth, they become 
false themselves and incredulous, even unwil- 
ling to believe what is true. 

Young persons who have not been brought up 
with a strict regard to truth, often indulge them- 
selves in exaggeration because it creates sur- 
prise, and if witty, greatly amuses a company ; 
thus they acquire consequence, and their society 
being sought after, until they grow tiresome, 
which will be inevitable, if they make them- 
selves the heroes of their own stories, their 
vanity becomes ridiculous. This desire of as- 
tonishing people by some new story leads them 
into scandal, and often produces great mischiefs, 
quarrels among neighbours, even ruin to the 
prospects and character of the innocent. Per- 
sons who thus amuse themselves are not in un- 
derstanding to be compared to the bee, which 
lays up a store of honey for a time of need. 



276 JUDGMENT. 

They lay up no wisdom for the age when wis- 
dom will be expected } they lay up no reputa- 
tion for prudence, or even for honesty, and must 
expect to be avoided as tale-bearers, perhaps 
liars. They secure no friendship, for those who 
have been wounded or injured by them, may h> 
deed forgive, but they will rarely forget. These 
mistakes as to the manner of amusing ourselves 
and others, with the expectation of securing an 
agreeable footing in society, mark a judgment 
not at all in accordance with reason, to say 
nothing of conscience and religion. 

The young are apt to be deceived by appear- 
ances ; they mistake flattery for sincerity, and 
where they expect friendship often find the feel- 
ings of their warm hearts met with polite but 
cold courtesy. This, in them, is liable to create 
suspicion, and the young trusting heart, forming 
the judgment that the world is full of deceit, 
becomes also cold and deceitful. Here discrim- 
ination must be exercised. There is deception 
in the world, and much of it ; but careful ob- 
servation will enable us, in most instances, to 
distinguish between the true and the false. 
Wherever there is affectation there is not entire 
sincerity ; and in general the greater the pro- 
fession of this, or any other virtue, the more 
valid the suspicion that it does not exist. So 
among our associates, should we meet those 



JUDGMENT. 277 

who are busy in casting a shade over the char- 
acters or prospects of their neighbours, the in- 
ference is safe that at some convenient oppor- 
tunity they may confer upon us the same favour. 
To look for defects is their delight, and their 
best friends for want of other subjects, may be 
served up to gratify this unnatural appetite. 

Whenever the young profess to despise pa- 
rental restraints, or speak disrespectfully of those 
in authority, it is to be feared they will lightly 
esteem the ties of friendship. When a young- 
man disregards the feelings of his sister, he will 
probably have but little respect for those of his 
wife. They who lightly esteem religion, either 
in its profession or its ordinances, will probably 
undervalue morality in all its requirements. 

I have endeavoured my young friends to set 
before you some illustrations of common rea- 
soning that may be more useful than the rules 
for making syllogisms. Thus to exercise your 
judgment and acquire accurate habits of thought, 
will be of vast importance throughout life. 
Persons who arrive at middle age with loose and 
unconnected ideas, are not able to discriminate ; 
they live with most uncomfortable confusion in 
their thoughts, and have no confidence in their 
own judgment ; they are apt to be led away by 
the prejudices or errors of others, and liable in 
their own conduct to fall into gross mistakes. 



27S JUDGMENT. 

Or else in the self-conceit of a little know- 
ledge, they set themselves up for the direc- 
tors of mankind, and are either laughed at 
for their ignorance, or are "blind leaders of 
the blind."" 

It is said of the celebrated and excellent Roger 
Sherman, that the predominant trait in his char- 
acter was his practical wisdom, or in other 
words his strong common sense. Mr. Jeffer- 
son pointing him out as he sat among the mem- 
bers of Congress, said, " That is a man who 
never said a foolish thing in his life." A good 
judgment is founded on such clear conceptions 
of truth as reason gives us, added to close and 
accurate attention to whatever is important for 
us to know in our several relations and occupa- 
tions in life. We learn to discriminate by com- 
parison, and to foresee by attending to our own 
experience as well as to the experience of others. 
Young persons of more than common intellect 
often bewilder themselves in the mazes of sophis- 
tical reasoning ; but a little reflection will show, 
that if the subject proposed be useless, it is folly 
to meddle with it ; if bey ond the reach of mind 
in its present existence, it is a waste of time to 
search into it. We should in humility acknow- 
ledge our own ignorance, and rest in the wisdom 
of Him who has made things unsearchable by hu- 
man understanding. It is certain that " there 



JUDGMENT. 279 

are things hard to be understood, which many 
wrest to their own destruction," but it is also 
certain that " we have a more sure word of 
prophecy, whereunto, if we take heed, we shall 
do well." 

A regard to our welfare as sensitive beings, 
is natural and rational, and we are bound to 
seek it by every means reasonable and consci- 
entious. This regard to our own temporal good, 
comes under the head of prudence, and belongs 
more properly to moral than to mental philos- 
ophy ; but being based upon our mental consti- 
tution, we must, in considering the adaptation 
of our nature to our external circumstances, also 
consider, the capability we find within ourselves 
of acting, so as to render our present existence 
at least comfortable. Few persons are so de- 
graded in intellect, as not to be able, (if willing 
to exercise their attention on the subject,) to 
form a correct judgment as to the common mat- 
ters that conduce to their welfare and respect- 
able standing in society. It is true, that by 
wrong education and by misguided feeling we 
may have been induced into erroneous habits 
of thought and unwise actions, but as the mind 
becomes matured and sobered, it is in our power 
to rectify by the right use of reason those mis- 
takes into which we may unfortunately have 
been led. In this we can procure assistance 



280 JUDGMENT. 

from the experience and counsel of parents or 
instructors. 

Thus my young friends is it in your power with 
the aids just referred to, to mark out such a course 
of conduct as may by Divine blessing, render you 
respectable, useful and happy in this world. The 
contrary will be your lot if you depart from the 
rules laid in the common sense and reason of your 
nature, or refuse to profit by experience, and re- 
ject the advice of those who are older and better 
instructed than yourselves. God has thus placed 
our present destiny in our own hands. To the 
brute He has given instinctive understanding 
which does not mislead him ; upon man has been 
bestowed higher understanding and Reason, with 
voluntary power to use or abuse them. Here 
is his accountability. Man frequently, nay con- 
stantly errs ; here is his fallibility, carrying with 
it the proof of a fallen nature, an understanding 
corrupted and under the dominion of sense. 
Still reason is a sufficient guide to the judgment 
in matters of worldly prudence. As to his 
moral and spiritual nature in which is involved 
his immortal destiny, man has within him the 
voice of Conscience, which cries, " do not." 

But as we have seen, this life is not the limit 
of our existence ; it is but the beginning, the 
preparatory state. How then can we rationally 
omit the future in our prudential considerations . ? 



JUDGMENT. 281 

Reason, that gives the knowledge of natural and 
necessary truth, is the gift of God to man, and 
should be his guide, yet we perceive that nothing- 
is more common to him than to fall into error, 
even in the matters that seem plain to the un- 
derstanding, which judges according to sense. 
'How then, you ask, if reason the light of nature 
in the soul, be insufficient, because of our erring 
propensities, to direct us in our common con- 
cerns, how can we trust to its direction in mat- 
ters of eternal moment ? How are we adapted 
to the appalling circumstances in which we are 
placed ? This is a momentous question. Hear 
the answer from eternal Truth. " If any among 
you seemeth to be wise in this world, let him 
become a fool that he may be wise." " For it is 
written, I will destroy the wisdom of the wise, 
and I will bring to nothing the understanding of 
the prudent," "that no flesh should glory in My 
presence." These are the words of God our 
Creator, at whose command "the eagle maketh 
her nest on high," who hath made the great 
" Behemoth which drinketh up a river," and 
" Leviathan" who "maketh the deep to boil as 
a pot." " If any lack wisdom let him ask of 
God that giveth to all liberally and upbraideth 
not ; and it shall be given him." The directions 
of Eternal Truth given to us in the Sacred Word 
are so plain, that he who runs may read, and 



282 JUDGMENT. 

" the wayfaring men, though fools" in the wis- 
dom of this world " shall not err therein." 

That quality of mind depending upon the 
judgment, called prudence, is particularly beau- 
tiful, as well as necessary in our sex. Woman 
though occupying an unobtrusive station in so- 
ciety, finds it one of great difficulty, danger and 
responsibility. The season of her youth exposes 
her to the temptation of being led, through flat- 
tery without and vanity within, to such connex- 
ions as may be ruinous to her earthly, perhaps 
her eternal happiness. The fond affections of 
her heart, when she becomes a mother, often 
mislead her to the undoing of her children ; 
and the want of the serious occupations and 
mental culture that hold in balance the minds 
of the other sex, exposes her to the allurements 
of indolence, and to a trifling spirit almost in* 
fantile. Add to this her amazing responsibili- 
ties, help-meet to man, guide and first director 
of the human intellect ; woman especially needs 
that culture of mind, which shall enable her to 
judge aright. 

My dear friends, this is your position in crea- 
tion. Weak and helpless, deficient as you feel 
yourselves, many of you are ready to exclaim, 
" surely by nature we are not fitted for the place 
we occupy." Do not mistake. You are not 
indeed perfect in instinctive knowledge and abil- 



JUDGMENT. 283 

ities to fulfil your allotted duties, but by grace 
may you be made so. The Creator has seen 
fit to glorify Himself most in the feeblest of His 
creatures. By the weak things of the world 
does He confound the mighty. When we are 
weak in ourselves, then may we find strength 
in Him. The reasoning of the most powerful 
understanding often leads to darkness, and men 
in their wisdom frequently become fools. Let 
woman, divested of that pride of intellect which 
often " dazzles but to blind," apply herself to 
the Light which shineth brighter and brighter 
unto the perfect day, sit down in the meekness 
and humility becoming her, where Mary sat, at 
the feet of Jesus, and she shall come off a con- 
queror greater than Alexander in the pride of 
his victories. " The price of such a woman is 
far above rubies. The heart of her husband 
trusteth in her for she shall do him good, and 
not evil all the days of her life." She shall 
bring no dishonour upon him by the folly of her 
speech for " she openeth her mouth with wis- 
dom," neither shall she be an offence against 
her neighbour," for "the law of kindness dwells 
upon her tongue." By her industry will she 
preserve comfort to her household, even when 
the storm of adversity overtakes them. Her 
children in her old age " rise up and call her 
blessed." " Favour is deceitful and beauty is 



284 IMAGINATION. 

vain, but a woman that feareth the Lord she 
shall be praised." 



CHAPTER XII. 



IMAGINATION. 



The highest developement of the Intellect is 
in the power it has of combining its conceptions, 
so as to form creations of its own ; a world 
within itself. This is the province of Imagina- 
tion. In the words of Shakspeare, 

" Imagination bodies forth 
Tbe forms of things unknown." 

The understanding is occupied w T ith objects 
that have been brought to the mind by means 
of sensible perceptions ; the reason is concerned 
with truth above or out of the reach of sense ; 
the imagination by its creative power forms, 
from the materials furnished by the under- 
standing and the reason, what has never yet 
been known to exist. In this process of thought 
all the powers of the mind are in full operation. 
Attention fixes itself upon the objects or subjects 
already discerned and brings them as finished 
pictures before the conception. Memory sets 
out its treasured resources. Association con- 
nects things present and past, near and afar, 



IMAGINATION. 285 

similar and dissimilar ; congruous and incon- 
gruous. Abstraction marks the essential dif- 
ferences, clearing the conception of whatever 
might cause confusion, while Judgment distin- 
guishes between the real and the counterfeit, 
the beautiful and the deformed, the useful and 
the useless, the good and the hurtful, and rea- 
son furnishes truth natural and moral, making 
a boundary beyond which thought may not pass.* 
Reason may be called the natural light of the 
mind ; Imagination the life, the animating, vivi- 
fying power, its creative energy. Without it 
the intellect would be spiritless, man a clod, 
and nature a matter-of-fact assemblage of earth 
and sky ; of water and herbage ; of beasts and 
birds and fishes. Imagination gives to man the 
" thoughts which breathe and words which 
burn," and clothes all nature in glorious beauty. 
It finds crystals in the dew-drops, gold and sil- 
ver in the waves of the ocean ; hangs the hea- 
vens at the morning twilight with a canopy of 
ruby, at night spangles them with living dia- 
monds ; while it covers the earth with a tapes- 
try of emerald, filling the air, the groves and 
the streams with melody. Imagination 

"Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven, 

And gives to airy nothings 

A local habitation and a name*" 

* Note O. 



286 IMAGINATION. 

It fills all earth and heaven with loveliness, 
producing pleasures independent of the bare 
sensations of sight, hearing, touch, taste and 
smell, that belong to, and exist in the mind it- 
self. " Take away the intelligence," says Cou- 
sin, " and there is for us no longer any beauty in 
external forms and things." Not only does it 
invest all material objects with qualities discov- 
erable by itself alone, but by its power of com- 
bining parts in objects, often dissimilar and in- 
congruous, it creates new wholes and presents 
to the mind forms of beings and things unknown ; 
it even frames worlds unseen by mortal eye, 
and peoples them with inhabitants of its own 
conception. 

The imaginative power of the mind shews 
its affinity to minds celestial. Were man a 
mere animal he would be confined to the ob- 
jects of sense, and to such qualities in them as 
the senses convey, but bearing within him a 
higher nature he discovers qualities beyond the 
reach of sight and hearing, and overleaping the 
boundaries of external perception, he wanders 
in fairy regions of his own creation, luxuriates 
in the enjoyments of ideality. The mind being 
by its constitution fitted to look at things un- 
seen, and to enjoy without the aid of the senses, 
it seeks the refined and purely intellectual qual- 
ities of beauty, sublimity, harmony and grace ; 



IMAGINATION. 287 

in fine, what may be termed perfection in ob- 
jects, and failing to find what it seeks in this 
present state of being, the imagination creates 
what it esteems perfection in idealities of its 
own ; shewing plainly the soul's alliance with 
worlds unknown, and its capability of enjoying 
the perfection of beauty, in glory ineffable. 

The lowest effort of the imagination is a con- 
ception of the ideal. This depends upon the 
knowledge of what is real, as well as upon the 
associations depending on circumstances, the 
abstractions resulting from reflection, and the 
judgment formed upon experience. Here we 
have the reason why the imagination is the 
slowest in its developement ; it is the fruit of 
the combined operation of all the intellectual 
powers. Here also, we see why, in children, 
it is so imperfect in its exercise ; but being the 
" richest blossom of the mind's flower-garden," it 
should be nurtured with care and skilfully 
trained. The imaginative power in children is 
seen in their early love of fiction, their frequent 
and earnest request for another story, their an- 
ticipations of the future in which they fancifully 
enact their part. The little girl is mistress of 
her own household, and fills her imaginary 
sphere with beings and with cares, while her 
brother is the hero of his own romance. 

The first effort of the imagination is the con- 



IMAGINATION. 



ception of the fictions addressed to it ; but it 
must be noticed that the conception of the ideal 
in children depends upon the training of their 
minds. Where the infant fancy is left to expand 
itself upon the absurd fictions of the nursery, 
it will be long, perhaps, before it can reach the 
conception of such a character as Milton's 
Adam. Pope, who at the age of twelve years 
wrote an Ode on Solitude, had his mind early 
trained by the reading of the Latin and Greek 
classics ; when only eight, he was regularly 
initiated into the perusal of Homer. 

This activity in the minds of children is like 
the growth of certain plants, which shoot out 
with wonderful rapidity in any direction, and 
attach themselves to every thing that comes 
within their reach. They mount the branches 
of the lofty oak or they entwine themselves 
around the gloomy Cyprus ; they would clasp 
the deadly nightshade, or meanly creep among 
the coarse weeds that grow around them. Thus 
with the mind in childhood. Carefully then 
should the mother or teacher seek to train the 
active spirit, which, like the bird of heaven, may 
ascend the loftiest heights that intellect, still in 
humanity, can reach, basking in the sunbeams 
of honour, until it become dizzy and dazzled 
with its own aspirings. Had the imaginative 
soul of Byron frequently refreshed itself in the 



IMAGINATION. 289 

ever-verdant bowers of maternal tenderness ; 
had the burning ardour of his restless spirit been 
allayed by the gentle current of a mother's love ; 
had he been soothed and melted by her voice at 
morning and evening devotions ; had he kindled 
his poetic fire at the pages of Divine Inspiration, 
who can say what might have been the labours 
of this master spirit ? 

" The early years of life," says the author of 
Home Education, " are all ideality. The real 
charm of a toy is derived from the power it 
possesses to excite the.conceptive faculty, hence 
it is, that the more it leaves to be filled up by 
the imagination — the ruder it is, so much the 
keener and the more lasting is the pleasure it 
afford s." It is much better to give to children 
materials upon which to exercise their ingenuity, 
and implements for work, than those finished, 
gilded toys, whose costliness is their least disad- 
vantage. A fine painted carriage which the little 
boy has only to draw about, will soon tire him, 
while a few bits of board, a saw, a hammer and 
some nails will afford him amusement for hours, 
by giving exercise to the faculty of invention. 

During the hours of recess at school, when 

other boys were engaged in their amusements, 

the mind of Newton was engrossed with me- 

chanical contrivances, either in imitation of 

what he had seen, or in original conceptions of 
19 



290 IMAGINATION. 

his own. He made a model of a windmill that 
was erected in his neighborhood, and then con- 
ceived the idea of turning it with animal power ; 
this project he executed by enclosing in it a 
mouse, that he called the miller, and which by 
acting upon a sort of tread- wheel, gave motion 
to the machine. He also invented a water- 
clock, and a mechanical carriage, put in motion 
by the person who sat in it. Newton though a 
" silent and thinking lad," and averse to engage 
in the sports of his companions, took great plea- 
sure in providing for their amusements, all of 
the scientific kind, such as attaching paper lan- 
terns to kites, which flying by night had the 
appearance of comets. 

Imagination is the foundation of both Taste 
and Genius. In the musician, the painter, the 
sculptor and the poet, it is the creative power ; 
in those who enjoy the wonders of ideality 
brought into existence by genius, it is the power 
of conceiving the ideal, and when combined 
with judgment it becomes taste. Imagination 
is an original power of the rational mind ; we find 
it in children, in savages, among all nations, and 
in all ages. It built the tower of Babel, it con- 
structed the Pyramids of Egypt ; it framed the 
disgusting Mythology of the Egyptians, and that 
more refined abomination of the Greeks. It 
invented alike the paradise of Odin, whose war- 



IMAGINATION. 291 

riors revel in the enjoyment of eternally slaying 
their enemies and drinking blood from their 
skulls ; and the celestial bowers of Mahomet, 
where the followers of the false Prophet recline 
amid all the delights of the senses. Imagina- 
tion tuned its lyre in the immortal strains of 
Homer ; it still raves in the fantastic measures 
of the war-dance and death-song of the Indian. 
It framed the hideous Idol of the Ganges, whose 
tremendous car is tracked by a stream of human 
blood ; and it guided the chisel of the Grecian 
sculptor, in forming an image of such transcen- 
dent beauty, that he prayed the gods to animate 
it with a living soul. 

A fine instance of the creative exercise of the 
imagination, connected with sensible imagery, 
is seen in the Paradise Lost of Milton. His 
garden of Eden is an assemblage of beautiful 
objects divested of all that can give offence to 
the most delicate conception. His Eve, in her 
innocence, is a fine model of female excellence ; 
and Adam the beau ideal of man as he came 
from the hand of his Maker. While Satan, the 
"dread commander" of the fallen spirits, stands 
" proudly eminent ;" not having yet lost " all 
his original brightness," he appears " archangel 
ruined," and the excess of glory obscured : 
As when the sun, new risen, 
Looks through the horizontal misty air, 



292 IMAGINATION. 

Shorn of his beams ; or from behind the moon 
In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds 
On half the nations, aod with fear of change 
Perplexes monarchs. Darken'd so, yet shone 
Above them all the archangel. 

That effort of the imagination found in the 
fine arts, affords us rich and varied sources of 
enjoyment. Statuary and Painting have pre- 
served the form and lineaments of the great and 
the virtuous, who for ages have slept in the 
dust; while the Poet, " glancing from heaven 
to earth, from earth to heaven," sets before the 
intellect a repast culled from the richest rarities 
of the natural and die moral world. He seizes 
upon the light and the shade, and the most deli- 
cate touches of the Painter's palette and out- 
does them all ; for he presses into his service 
the melody of music and the power of language ; 
nay, he bestows enchantment upon language, 
filling it with metaphors and imager}-, giving 
motion and soul to the inanimate universe. 

In the voluntary and persevering employment 
of the creative energy given by imagination, 
under the direction of Reason, do we find the 
highest exercise of the intellect ; and this we 
may term Genius. It is the characteristic of 
great minds ; it carries the "feelings and fresh- 
ness of youth into the matured strength of man- 
hood," its greenness appears, even among the 



IMAGINATION. 293 

whitening frosts of age, and its light and warmth 
casta cheerful. beam over the chilling shades 
that hover around the tomb. The truly great 
mind is continually progressing, continually ac- 
cumulating, and when called to clothe itself with 
immortality, it leaves behind it an immortality 
of fame.* 

Genius has been compared to the diamond 
which has the peculiar property of refracting 
and reflecting the prismatic colours. Thus 
genius refracts and reflects the light it receives 
from other minds, and arranges thoughts thus 
furnished, so that the light of truth falls upon us 
bright and with added lustre. " A Newton or 
a Shakspeare," says a modern author, " de- 
prived of kindred minds and born among sav- 
ages — savages had been." Doubtless they had 
been great among savages, perhaps revered as 
demi-gods, either for some surprising invention, 
or some unknown power of controuling minds. 

The early youth of Sir Isaac Newton shews 
the developement of his imagination in both 
painting and poetry, and his kind and social 
nature constantly directed his inventive power 
to the labour that might be agreeable or benefi- 
cial to others. His Reason set before him ne- 
cessary truth in all its vividness, and his moral 
nature, being renewed and sanctified by the 

• Note P. 



294 IMAGINATION. 

Spirit of Truth, the activity of his ardent mind 
was led to researches that crowned him with 
honour, and made him the glory of his age ; 
while he, as a child who had wearied himself 
with gathering pebbles on the ocean's shore, 
turned meekly to the Father of his spirit, where, 
drawing wisdom from its Fountain, he gently 
passed from a world which he had helped to 
enlighten, to one where Light unclouded, and 
Love unalloyed, eternally reign. 

The apostle Paul was eminently a man of 
genius ; all his writings prove it, and his actions 
join in the testimony. The warmth of his ima- 
gination, directed by an erring conscience, for 
he verily thought to do God service, in youth 
led him to the persecution of those whom he 
considered blasphemers of the God of his fa- 
thers ; but when touched by the finger of Truth 
Divine, the scales fell from the eyes of natural 
reason, straightway Paul preached Christ, con- 
founding the Jews by the strength of his rea- 
sonings. Then did he, in the mighty activity 
of his mind, go from city to city, proclaiming the 
truth in the name of Him whom he now be- 
lieved to be the Holy and the Just. In the 
majesty of internal greatness he stood before 
kings and governors unabashed, and while with 
them he reasoned of truth, of righteousness and 
of judgment to come, they trembled before this 



IMAGINATION. 295 

prisoner, "weak in bodily presence," and con- 
fessed the power of his eloquence. His mind 
with amazing activity, runs along the whole line 
of truth, taking possession of its strongest points. 
To the proud reasonings of the human under- 
standing, he answers, "-let God be true, but 
every man a liar" ; to the scoffing caviller against 
the sovereignty of the Creator, he applies reason 
in all its sublimity. " Nay but, O man, who 
art thou that repliest against God ?" and con- 
cluding this unanswerable and wonderful argu- 
ment, his enlightened reason triumphantly ex- 
claims, " Oh, the depth of the riches, both of 
the wisdom and knowledge of God!" and then, 
amazed, as his imagination reaches this concep- 
tion of Divine wisdom, the Apostle humbly ac- 
knowledges, " How unsearchable are His judg- 
ments, and His ways past finding out." After 
a life of untiring activity in the most glorious of 
all labours, disseminating truth ; during which, 
Paul not only abandoned the honours, that, by 
the world would have been awarded to his 
genius, but he patiently endured the loss of 
home, of country, of reputation, and gave up 
life itself ; while the eye of his mind, and all 
the feelings of his ardent soul were fixed on 
things, not discoverable by the senses, but to 
his spiritual vision, assisted by the glass of faith, 
were clearly revealed, and full of glory. This 



296 IMAGINATION. 

is, perhaps, the highest example of imagination 
kindling in the rays of Truth natural and Di- 
vine ; thus is man immeasurably exalted above 
his animal nature and becomes truly great. 

But the imagination is sometimes much under 
the influence of the senses, or the understanding 
that judges according to sense ; hence the de- 
plorable abuse of this high intellectual power. 
How much fine thought is often expended on 
subjects far too trivial to occupy the time of 
beings whose present existence is but a span, 
whose futurity runs along the ages of eternity, 
accompanied with the immense responsibility 
of the right employment of the passing mo- 
ments. It seems a wonder in folly, that a life- 
time should be spent in writing odes and poems 
on the most trifling of subjects, often the most 
immoral; or in spinning out, as did Richardson, 
the adventures of imaginary heroes and hero- 
ines, through numerous and tiresome volumes. 
The exercise of the imagination, in such in- 
stances, becomes a ruling passion, sometimes 
subservient to the worst passions of our nature. 
It was said of Pope that he wrote to obtain ap- 
plause or to gratify vanity. He imagined foes 
where he had none, for the purpose of saying a 
witty thing, or to draw observation. 

Of the celebrated and unfortunate poet Sav- 
age, Dr. Johnson says, " His mind was in an 



IMAGINATION. 297 

uncommon degree vigorous and active, his judg- 
ment was accurate, his apprehension quick and 
his memory tenacious, but it cannot be said, 
that he made use of his abilities for the direc- 
tion of his own conduct ; an irregular and dis- 
sipated life made him the slave of every passion 
that happened to be excited by the presence of 
its object, and that slavery to his passions re- 
ciprocally produced a life irregular and dissi- 
pated." Dean Swift was remarkable for his sel- 
fishness, pride and overbearing temper. His 
pen was often dipped in gall, and in the latter 
part of his life, he abandoned himself to angry 
passion, and whether through that, or remorse 
for the wreck he had made of the trusting affec- 
tions of his injured victims, alternate frenzy and 
idiocy took possession of his highly gifted intel- 
lect, that by its commanding power seemed in- 
tended for the noblest purpose. 

How unlike the above men, whose names 
stand enrolled on the pages of fame, is the ex- 
cellent Dr. Watts. He employed a vigorous and 
active imagination and the stores of his exten- 
sive knowledge in providing instruction for per- 
sons of all ages ; for the child who is conning 
his first lessons, as well as for the intellectual 
readers of Malbranche and Locke. He who 
successfully touched the Lyre of the Royal Da- 
vid, descended to lisp the songs of infancy. 



298 IMAGINATION. 

Intellect is truly sublime, even godlike, in its 
exercise when it descends to instruct the igno- 
rant and the feeble. The Almighty, who holds 
the winds in His hand, and guides the forked 
lightening, disdains not to weave a robe of 
beauty for the lily of the field, or find a shelter 
for the bird of the air. The Redeemer of men 
when engaged in the sublime work of saving a 
world from ruin, while devils fled affrighted at 
His miracles, and angels gazed upon him in 
wonder, stayed the mighty workings of His 
power, to bless the little children. 

The gift of fertile, creative, evolving thought, 
is bestowed upon some minds, not to waste 
on the trifles of an hour, but, that in the no- 
blest effort displayed to us of His creative 
power, — the human soul, the Divine Creator 
might be glorified. How then can we wonder 
that a perversion of that high gift, by means of 
selfish passion, or the, pride of the sensual under- 
standing, and a wilful departure from the light 
of reason and of conscience, with rejection of 
Revelation made by the Father of Spirits, should 
not meet the punishment so justly incurred? 
Can we wonder that the proud intellect, which 
dares revolt against its Creator, should, Nebu- 
chadnezzar-like, be deprived of the Reason it 
disgraces, and be degraded to a level with the 
brute ! Rarely, to such, as to the king of Bab- 



IMAGINATION. 299 

ylon, does reason return, with sentiments of 
praise and honour to the Most High. 

"He touched his harp, and nations heard, entranced, 

And praised. 

Thus full of titles, flattery, honour, fame; 

Beyond desire, beyond ambition full — 

He died — he died of what? Of wretchedness. 

Drank every cup of joy ; then died of thirst. 

Cut from the sympathies of life, 

And cast ashore from pleasure's boisterous surge, 

A wandering, weary, worn and wretched thing ; 

Scotched and desolate, and blasted soul." Pollok. 

These lines, it is supposed, refer to Lord By- 
ron ; they might be applied to any highly gifted 
intellect that makes shipwreck of reason, of con- 
science and of faith t dashing upon the rocks of 
sensual pleasure and of passion. 

-In the season of youth, the mind, if intellec- 
tual, often loves its" own musings more than all 
the enjoyments procured by reality. " During 
such moments," says Rousseau, " my soul loses 
itself and roves through the universe upon the 
wings of imagination in an extacy, which ex- 
ceeds all other enjoyment." In this state of 
excited fancy should not truth be presented and 
even pressed upon the youthful mind, too prob- 
ably may its energies be wasted upon idealities ; 
fiction carrying with it a higher charm, for the 
very reason that reality as we find it in our im- 
perfect world, has something repulsive to the 



300 IMAGINATION. 

refined perceptions of the imagination, which 
has the ability to pencil out its own forms of 
beauty, and give to them its own colourings. 
Lamentable indeed is the condition of those who 
thus reject the guidance of reason and abandon 
themselves to the leadings of an erratic ima- 
gination. By the power of this wonderful ma- 
gician they rove in fields of light, where foun- 
tains flow with nectar, and trees drop down 
ambrosia ; but one stroke of his wand turns this 
fairy land to a wilderness, and the common cur- 
rent of life becomes more bitter from the con- 
trast. The poor visionary is often too miser- 
able for endurance. See this in the history of 
Rousseau, of Burns, and of Byron. 

The imaginative person forms the beau ideal 
of characters in accordance with his own fan- 
cied perfection, and then worshipping the crea- 
ture of his imagination, the every day person- 
ages around him have but little hold upon his 
affections. He is the most unstable of all friends 
because forever disappointed in his expectations 
from them. Of Rousseau it was said, that it 
was scarcely possible to continue long on an 
intimate footing with him. He selfishly indulged 
his own feelings, and loved more than any be- 
ings the imaginary creations of his own brain. 
Said Madame De Stael of him, " I am certain 
that the woman he loved most, or perhaps that 



IMAGINATION. 301 

he loved at all, was his own Julia, the heroine 
of his romance." The more the imagination is 
under the influence of the sensual understanding, 
the more it wanders into the labyrinths of fic- 
tion, perhaps of falsehood. The further the 
mind departs from the truth, the more imper- 
fect does its sense become of moral obligation ; 
the nobler emotions of the soul evaporate in 
frothy sensibilities that have no foundation in 
nature or in duty, and the holiest ties are often 
by the sentimentalist snapped asunder as cords 
that touch the fire. Dean Swift and Sterne in 
their trifling with the most sacred affections of 
the heart shewed their extreme selfishness, as 
well as destitution of moral principle. 

Of this want of principle we have an illustration 
in the insatiable novel-reader. Absorbed in the 
woes of some fancied heroine, she finds it diffi- 
cult to tear herself away, even to minister to the 
wants of an invalid mother, or to bestow the requi- 
site cares upon a suffering sister. How can she 
return to the common train of household affairs 
while the accomplished Augustus is still suffer- 
ing from the stings of wounded feeling, or en- 
gaged in some adventure of intense interest ? 

A } r oung woman whose education had been 
just sufficient to give her a relish for works of 
fiction, married at an early age. The husband 
was an industrious mechanic, who could not 



302 IMAGINATION. 

afford a servant for his wife, and she could not 
give up what she called her literary pursuits, 
but continued in her lonely hours to read every 
charming novel she could procure. The young 
husband frequently came home expecting a din- 
ner, and found his wife upon her bed, hastily 
concealing one of those intoxicating books, while 
she complained of a severe headache ; no din- 
ner was in preparation. An increasing family, 
it would seem might have called the mother's 
attention from the objects of her ideality, but it 
was not so ; the Helens and the Julias, the 
Henrys and the Edwards of romance, inspired 
sufficient interest to make her forget her own 
offspring. From a comfortless home, the hus- 
band retreated to a tavern, while the children 
in rags, and dirt, and starvation, hung round a 
mother, whose sentimentality now expended 
itself in loud complaints against an unfeeling 
world and a hard fate. This case is no fiction. 
Not many years ago it was a melancholy reality 
to those whose benevolence drew them to the 
assistance of the suffering family ; and sad was 
it to behold the proud and infatuated woman, 
repulse with the scorn of an injured heroine, 
those, who in kindness, offered to provide fitting 
employment for her almost naked and starving 
children. Her darlings nurtured with such fond 
affection should never become the menials of 



IMAGINATION. 303 

others ; heaven would provide for them better 
than an unfeeling world, and would reward her 
hereafter for the miseries she endured here. 
Mrs. B. continued to read novels and sentimen- 
talize until she was carried to the poor-house. 

It is to be feared that this perverted use of 
the imagination by which the mind is led to de- 
light in works of fiction, has been, in innumer- 
able instances, attended with consequences as 
disastrous as those just related. Our sex are 
especially injured by this kind of reading. To 
write a good story requires an effort of mind not 
at all necessary in its perusal ; and to those who 
dislike the labour of thinking, such reading is a 
most desirable occupation ; it creates that dreamy 
excitement, allied to sensitive pleasure, which, as 
Rousseau, describing his own case, says, " at- 
tracts the senses, and supplying the place of 
mental operations, causes me to feel a pleasure 
in my existence, without the labour of thought." 
The mind, thus indulged, becomes feeble and 
incapable of that exercise required by study. 
A young person who has suffered her fancy thus 
to rove, will obtain her knowledge of History 
from Sir Walter Scott, her ideas of life from 
Miss Edgworth, and her religion from Mrs. 
Sherwood. 

By this observation, my young friends, I mean 
no disparagement to the eminent authors thus 



304 • IMAGINATION. 

noticed, whose works however admirable in 
their kind, are very liable to misuse ; I would 
only caution you against a propensity to indulge 
in mental indolence, while you erroneously ima- 
gine youselves engaged in the cultivation of 
your minds. It is not unusual for a mother to 
laud the studious habits of her daughter, when 
that daughter consumes the midnight oil, to the 
ruin of her health, in the entrancing occupation 
of novel-reading. " She is too fond of learn- 
ing," says the fond mother, " to be of use to 
me, pity she should not be sent to school, and 
fitted for a teacher." The daughter rejoicing 
at the prospect of emancipation from the thral- 
dom of domestic avocations, consents. At school 
she is the worst scholar in her classes ; study is 
labour, and the novel requires no labour, while 
it sufficiently and delightfully occupies the indo- 
lent mind, therefore the novel finds a place in 
her desk, and takes precedence of the Geog- 
raphy and History ; it is concealed from the 
eye of the Teacher, and even at recitation at- 
tracts many a stolen and hurried glance. In- 
deed, who that has been pampered upon the 
sweets of fiction can find an appetite 7 for the 
realities of science ? 

This love of fiction is a foe, still more fearful 
to religion than to science. A pious young man 
once remarked with sorrow, that his sister who 



IMAGINATION. 305 

was a professor of piety, gave herself so much 
to the reading of religious novels during the 
week, that the sacred hours of the Sabbath, not 
employed in public devotion, seemed to her a 
weariness ; for conscience, or habit, or fear of 
censure, forbade the cherished fiction, and the 
reading of her Bible appeared a task too great 
to be endured. 

But the imagination, you tell me, will seek 
its aliment. Be it so ; but let it seek to nourish 
itself at pure and healthful fountains. Let it 
seek rational as well as pleasant exercise, that 
it may develope itself and expand in thought 
elevated and refined. Would you a feast of 
classic lore P take then the pages of the elegant 
Xenophon, follow the footsteps of his favorite 
Cyrus, obedient and temperate as a youth, hu- 
mane and generous as a conqueror ; as a man 
just, benevolent and pious ; calm in death with 
the heathen's hope of immortality. Holding 
the glass of History, see Thebes with its hun- 
dred gates ; Athens the city of Pericles, rich in 
temples, porticos and statues. With Marius 
look in solemn silence upon the ruins of mag- 
nificent Carthage ; thence wander to the plains 
of Egypt and weep as you see the headless body 
of the great Pompey, the conqueror of Asia, 
deserted by the whole world, interred beneath 

the treacherous sands, by the hands of a slave. 
20 



306 IMAGINATION. 

Look, and you will see empires rise and fall, 
magnificent cities turned to heaps of unsightly 
rubbish, and the great ones, who filled the earth 
with their deeds of glory, finding a narrow lodg- 
ing beneath its clods. One Dominion alone 
remains, progressing in strength and glory, un- 
der the rule of Him, whose title is the Prince 
of Peace. 

Would you a gentler topic, then " springing 
from the bed of sloth, " enjoy with the poet, 

"The cool, the fragrant, and the silent hour* 
To meditation due, and sacred song. 1 * 

See 

"The lessening cloud, 
The kindling azure, and the mountain brow 
Illum'd with fluid gold." 

Or would imagination take a higher flighty 
soar with the lofty Milton ; bid old Time roll 
back his car, and carry you to the beginning of 
all created things. There may you tread the 
groves of Paradise ; then mourn with fallen Eve, 

" These happy walks and shades, these flow'rs 
That never will in other climate grow." 

And when the sightless Bard suspends his 
strain, then may you set forward with the good 
Pilgrim of the inimitable Bunyan. Should you 
travel, not in imagination only, but in faith, from 
the plain of Destruction to the Celestial City, 
you will then be prepared to take the harp of 



IMAGINATION. 307 

David, and sing the song that angels never can 
aspire to raise, of "Glory to Him who hath 
loved us, and washed us in his own blood." 

But beware, I entreat you that your religion 
be not that of the imagination. Reason as well 
as Revelation teaches, that the far-off starving 
Prodigal, cannot satisfy the cravings of his hun- 
ger, with the " bare imagination of a feast," set 
out in the hails of his deserted Father. Can 
the selfish, sensual mind, filled with its own 
disordered fancies, rationally imagine, that its 
fitful musings on another world, a better and 
brighter land, inspired perhaps by some sudden 
quarrel with this, which like the quarrels of 
lovers, will soon end in renewed and added 
affection ; can such a mind rationally imagine 
these unhallowed invocations, acceptable as 
spiritual communion with Him who is infinite 
in purity, demanding the whole heart ? This 
heart, being still at an unmeasurable distance 
from God, and filled with unrighteous desires 
after its own gratifications. In vain does the 
imagination in its " costly devotion," offer to 
God the precious things it prizes most. The 
cattle on a thousand hills are His own ; such 
" oblations" please Him not. In vain does it 
make an idol of its fancied virtue ; " sell all 
and follow me," is His command. 

The much admired poet Burns, in a letter to 



308 IMAGINATION. 

his father, thus expresses himself; " I am quite 
transported at the thought that, ere long, per- 
haps very soon, I shall bid an eternal adieu to 
all pains and uneasiness and disquietude of this 
weary life ; for I assure you I am heartily tired 
of it, and if I do not deceive myself, could con- 
tentedly and gladly resign it. 

"The soul uneasy, and confined at home, 
Rests and expatiates in a life to come." 

"It is for this reason I am more pleased with 
the 15th, 16th and 17th verses of the 7th chap- 
ter of Revelation, than with any ten times as 
many verses in the whole Bible, and would not 
exchange the noble enthusiasm with which they 
inspire me for all that this world has to offer. I 
am not formed for the bustle of the busy, nor 
the flutter of the gay. I shall never again be 
capable of entering into such scenes." In a 
few days after the writing of this letter our poet 
in giving a welcoming carousal to the new year 
with his gay companions, suffered his flax to 
catch fire, and his shop to be consumed to ashes.* 

In this case we have an instance of the reli- 
gion of the imagination. There is such a thing 
as connecting what is beautiful and sublime in 
nature with ideas of God and heaven, and so 
creating a religion the Bible does not warrant— 
a religion that may well be called imaginative. 

* Life of Robert Burns, prefixed to his works. 



IMAGINATION. 309 

It is frequently the religion of the Poet and the 
Novelist. " God, Love and Poetry," said La- 
martine, " are the three words which I should 
wish engraven on my tomb." 

Imagination alone is a most uncertain guide 
in the path of duty ; it will go no farther in form- 
ing the character for piety than in forming it for 
benevolence. The mind is frequently wrought 
up by a scene of distress or an eloquent speech 
to a sudden fit of charity ; but it does not last, 
there is no fixed principle of love to God and love 
to man. So with religion. When the voyager 
in the lovely twilight of a summer's evening hears 
the prayers ascending on the silent pathless 
ocean, from the lips of solitary mariners, the 
soul may be elevated with unutterable emotion ; 
but it rises on the wings of imagination alone, 
unless it bear within it a principle of holiness.* 
Without this, there can be no true religion, even 
should the mind be raised to the highest pitch 
of devotional excitement. Indeed imagination 
unrestrained, often abuses religion by making it 
an instrument in the hands of passion. See 
persecution in all its nameless and revolting 
forms, imagining thus to do God service ; as 
well as superstition in seeking to propitiate His 
favour by sacrifices He has not commanded, or 
in the execution of His supposed secret purposes. 

* Pilgrimage to the Holy Land, page 32. 



310 IMAGINATION. 

" Selim conquered Egypt, and having mounted 
a magnificent throne, erected on the bank of the 
Nile, he ordered the whole race of the oppres- 
sors of that fine country to be conducted to his 
presence. Twenty thousand Mamelukes were 
then massacred before his e}^es, and their bodies 
were cast into the river. This barbarity was 
dictated, not by any cruelty of disposition, but 
by that idea of fatality which makes a man 
place faith in his mission ; and to fulfil the will 
of God, of whom he thinks himself the instru- 
ment, he regards the world as his conquest and 
mankind as dust beneath his feet. That same 
hand, which was thus stained with the blood of 
so many thousand men, wrote poetry full of 



»# 



resignation, mildness and philosoph 

Thus, does the imagination, building its faith 
upon the objects of sense, and upon the pride 
that aspires to divine inspiration, make God a 
confederate in its unhallowed services, its tyran- 
nic usurpation over the belief and consciences 
of others ; aud thus does it become the most 
fearful instrument of evil.f 

Said Mrs. Hawkes in a letter to a young friend, 
"I recommend to you to make it as I do one 
part of sincere and fervent prayer that my Di- 
vine Protector will not suffer either Satan or any 
of his evil agents to approach my imagination. 
* Pilgrimage to the Holy Land. f Note Q. 



IMAGINATION. 311 

The imagination is a faculty less under our con- 
trol than any other ; and to have this sanctified 
should be our earnest supplication." To ascend 
to the Source of all things, to the invisible God 
by the prayer of faith, is the highest effort of 
conception, the most exalted act of the human 
intellect ; it is the soul in its greatest activity, 
its spiritual life connected with its highest intel- 
lectual vigour. Faith is the gift of God to the 
rational spirit, which in its sense of utter desti- 
tution of all inherent good, looks with humility, 
to Him, who is the Fountain of all blessing, and 
rises by the aid of the Divine Spirit upon the wings 
of the sanctified imagination to worlds unknown. 
Then does human Reason behold undazzled, 
" that Light, in which there is no darkness at all." 

My dear friends, we are peculiarly interested 
in this branch of our subject. As these illustra- 
tions have been placed before you, doubtless 
you have been made sensible of the danger 
arising from an undue license given to the most 
active as well as most delightful of our mental 
faculties; and must now be aware of the im- 
portance of holding it under the control of 
Reason and Religion. To this let me most 
earnestly exhort you. 

Our sex indeed seldom exhibit that high ope- 
ration of mind which in the arts and sciences is 
termed Genius. We find not among them a 



312 IMAGINATION. 

Homer or Milton ; a Raffaelle or Corregio ; a Mo- 
zart or Handel; a Leibnitz or Newton. Should 
we search for the reason, we might find it partly 
in the early indulgence that more or less ener- 
vates the mind, partly in the indolence which is 
the natural result of a condition that leaves them 
free from the obligation to gain their subsistence 
by labour. Yet the necessity under which na- 
ture has laid Woman to find her happiness in 
the finest and strongest emotions of the soul, 
fills her with ideality, and gives an activity to 
thought that frequently leads to the most grievous 
errors. Here is her danger ; here if the sensi- 
tive feelings take the lead she may be wretched, 
even undone. Imagination weaving with its 
rainbow tints a destiny, as brilliant, not more 
lasting than the changing bow of heaven, will 
readily give to the shifting scene an aspect 
gloomy as the wildest tempest. Few indeed, 
like the unfortunate Lady, celebrated by Pope, 
put a period to an existence rendered miserable 
by the destruction of cherished hopes, yet many 
augment the unhappiness of their condition by 
impatience, fretfulness and repining. Again, 
there are those who imagine neglect and un- 
kindness, when it does not exist, thus drawing 
it upon themselves ; and some, we would hope 
few, frantically rush where passion leads, and 
find their own destruction. 



IMAGINATION. 313 

The highly sensitive nature of woman, less 
under the control of reason than that of man, 
often carries her to extremes, sometimes through 
the strength of her affections, sometimes through 
a misguided conscience ; but blessed be that 
Grace more abundantly bestowed upon her, 
which often gives to the weaker sex, surprising 
control over feeling, unshaken fortitude in suf- 
fering, and triumph in the hour of death. 

Then, think it not a degraded condition to be 
debarred from the more public walks of life, 
and deprived of the glory which belongs to the 
higher efforts of genius. Such a sphere of ac- 
tion was not intended for our sex, though it is 
true, that strong and brilliant intellect unre- 
pressed by circumstance, has sometimes ren- 
dered woman a blessing, sometimes a curse to 
our world. If the genius of a Hannah More, 
like the healthful breezes of the west, comes 
with kindliest influences ; that of a Mary Wol- 
stoncraft, like the Sirocco of the desert, bears 
death and desolation upon its blast. Why 
should woman desire that her paintings should 
ornament the walls of Galleries and Cathedrals, 
that her music should gain applause in Oratorios, 
or her Tragedies meet the shouts of the box and 
the pit ? why should she seek to figure in Con- 
ventions or in the Halls of Legislature, when a 
destiny so much more noble lies before her ? 



314 IMAGINATION. 

To woman is assigned the delightful employ- 
ment to restore in part the forfeited charms of 
Eden : to her is allotted the important duty to 
assist man by her gentle and prudent counsels, 
and to lighten the burden of the curse which 
through her means was brought upon him. 
Mother of all living, it is through her that human 
intellect takes whatever form is given by her 
moulding power. Was it not Olympia that fos- 
tered the passions of pride, ambition and cru- 
elty in the bosom of her son — Alexander, the 
mighty Conqueror of the East ? And did not 
the mother of Washington inculcate truth, kind- 
ness and every virtue in the breast of the Chris- 
tian Hero — the noble Defender of the West? 
Let not Woman then complain of her destiny, 
nor engage in the petty quarrel about equality 
of mind ; but so cultivate her mental powers 
that she may with propriety and dignity fill the 
high station assigned her by the Creator. Let 
imagination in her be corrected and refined by 
judgment, and controled by reason and con- 
science. In fine, brought under the influence 
of Religion, let her leave to man the adventu- 
rous flights of soaring genius ; and while with 
eagle's eye he gazes on the sun, let her active 
and ingenious thought, her cultivated taste pre- 
pare such refreshment in social life as shall 
draw him from the dangerous height, perhaps 



IMAGINATION. 315 

save him from the disastrous plunge into the 
gulf of ruin. Let us resign to man the man- 
agement of the powers of nature, and the mas- 
tery of the arts by which Providence permits 
him to control these powers. Let him mea- 
sure the stars, and direct the lightening in its 
flight ; be it our delightful employment, by the 
humble supplications of pure and unwavering 
Faith, to draw on him, on us, blessings from the 
Heaven of heavens. 



PART m. 



CHAPTER I. 



FEELING. 



In analyzing the corporeal frame, Physiolo- 
gists have not, as yet, come to any certainty 
respecting the seat of life and action. Whether 
its vitality be in the heart or the lungs, whether 
motion be produced by the nerves or the mus- 
cles, still appears a difficulty in scientific re- 
search. But the beautiful harmony existing 
among the varied and wonderfnl organs of the 
human frame, in which all the parts unite, with- 
out interference, to contribute to its vitality and 
action, is truly admirable. 

In the analysis of mind, we cannot ascertain 
how its connection with matter by means of the 
senses operate with its intelligence in the pro- 
duction of its knowledge and its feelings, or how 
its perceptions and emotions affect each other ; 
but we do know, that there is a connection so 
intimate between the sentient and intellectual 
states, between them and the moral powers, 



318 PEELING. 

that it seems to require a united action of the 
whole to produce intellectual and moral life. 
The mind is one, indivisible, requiring for its 
healthy exercise the operation of every faculty. 
Life seems to pervade the whole bodily frame, 
so that we cannot say where its seat is ; yet 
there are parts which do not appear essential to 
the vitality of the body. Deprive it of a limb, 
and the vital functions will not be deranged, its 
movements even will not be much impeded. 
With the mind this is not so. Take from man 
the understanding depending upon the senses, 
and he would be less fitted for his condition in 
this world than the animal who knows and acts 
from the impulse of his instinct. Take away 
memory, and the past would be annihilated, 
his state would be idiocy. Deprive the mind 
of imagination and there is no longer for it any 
charm in this world of matter, its creative power 
would be gone, and the chief source of emotion 
dried up. Let reason be driven from the intel- 
lect, and the animal nature would herd with the 
beasts of the field. Deprive it of emotion or 
feeling, and it would lose all social blessedness 
and all spring to noble action. Take from it 
conscience, and the human mind would alter- 
nately grovel with the reptiles of the earth, and 
aspire with proud and fallen spirits to the usur- 
pation of unhallowed dominion. Deprived of 



FEELING. 319 

will, man would become a piece of mechanism, 
no longer a person but a thing. 

Feeling is a term used to express a sense of 
the body. It has its seat most probably in the 
nerves, and gives origin, chiefly through the 
touch, to a variety of pleasant and painful sen- 
sations. The word feeling when applied to the 
mind has an analogous meaning, and is used to 
express the various pains and pleasures denom- 
inated sentiments, emotions and passions. It 
is probable that feeling whether of body or 
mind is communicated to the external and in- 
ternal perceptions, that is to sensation and to 
consciousness, through the same organs — the 
nerves. 

Into this mystery we cannot pretend to pene- 
trate, though we thus judge from the sympathy 
established between the body and mind. Joy 
gives light or brightness to the countenance ; 
grief forces tears from the eye and sighs from 
the bosom, surprise excites to sudden exclama- 
tion ; if ludicrous causes laughter. Fear drives 
back the current of the blood and leaves a deadly 
paleness on the cheek ; shame, modesty and 
anger accelerate its motion and send it rushing 
to the surface. Sudden emotions, if strong, 
produce trembling, sometimes intense pain in 
various parts of the frame ; in some cases they 
have been known to cover the youthful head 



320 PEELING. 

with the frosts of age, and even to occasion 
death. How intimate, how wonderful, even 
mysterious, is the connection between the mate- 
rial, mortal body, and the immaterial, immortal 
spirit ! Can we wonder that the soul clings in 
fond affection and strong emotion to its earthly 
partner, and shrinks from the disrobing of its 
" mortal coil" I 

Feeling appears to belong to life, animal as 
well as spiritual. By the term spiritual, here, 
is meant what regards the soul. When any 
part of the body is so paralysed that it loses 
sensation and motion the term dead is applied 
to it. The mind is sometimes in a state analo- 
gous to this deadness of the body. So little 
activity is there in thought that the perception 
of relations is indistinct ; the memory is weak, 
because the attention is seldom fixed upon any 
object ; and for the same reason there is scarce 
any power of abstraction, or of judgment. The 
intellectual life or the combination of the ima- 
gination and the reason is not discoverable. 
This apathy appears in some cases to pervade 
the whole mental constitution. The emotions 
of wonder and surprise, are seldom called forth, 
the admiration of the beautiful and the sublime 
is never displayed. The social feelings and 
moral emotions seem almost or quite extinct. 

This is the most pitiable condition in life, and 



PEELING. 321 

whether the effect of disease or arising from 
other causes is most earnestly to be deprecated. 
It is a well known fact that similar disease of 
the body is often induced by neglect in child- 
hood, as in the case of children who from want 
of sufficient exercise and other attention become 
sickly ; and in after life, indolence will occasion 
a torpor in the animal functions, and often mor- 
tal disease. There is such an intimate connec- 
tion between the body and the mind, and so 
much analogy, or similarity in their operations, 
that it is difficult to resist the thought that men- 
tal derangement in some of its forms may be 
produced through the inactivity of the mind 
itself. Coleridge calls madness " the sleep of 
the spirit." He also says that, " great genius 
is most alien from madness — divided from it 
by an impassable mountain — namely the ac- 
tivity of thought and vivacity of the accumula- 
ting memory." This activity of thought as 
well as the accumulating memory depends 
much upon the voluntary action of the mind. 

Emotion is derived from a word that signifies 
to be moved out of rest, or put in motion, and 
is applied to the mind only. Motion or move- 
ment, seems a necessary condition of life, as 
well as of the body as of the spirit ; and a state 
of repose, is m itself so agreeable to nature, 

that to overcome the inclination to remain at 
21 



322 PEELING. 

rest, strong excitement to action is requisite. 
Our appetites — hunger and thirst, are strong 
incentives to action, and induce to that labour 
which is necessary to the sustenance of natural 
life. Our mental perceptions also find in the 
variety of objects presented to them through the 
senses, an irresistible impulse to seek for know- 
ledge. The relations, numerous and endearing, 
by which we stand connected to each other, find 
within the soul a corresponding chord by which 
they move it to mighty action. Our rational 
and moral nature fills it with still higher emo- 
tions and prompts it to nobler action. 

How amazing is that Wisdom, which in form- 
ing the wondrous mechanism of the human 
frame, has united it, in such intimate and har- 
monious accord, with an immaterial and im- 
mortal partner, endowed with faculties, so va- 
ried, so complicated and so in unison with the 
body, that they act, enjoy and suffer with each 
other. The wonder still increases when we 
reflect that this being, "of different natures, 
marvellously mixed," has a strong propensity 
to the inertness that belongs to matter, yet it is 
furnished with such motives to activity, that it 
rests not except when the objects of perception 
are concealed by the veil of night: — and, so 
delicately is it framed that the derangement of 
one of the many thousand springs of action 



FEELING. 323 

might occasion disorder among them all; still 
does it move on in the loving intercourse of 
body and soul, unless disturbed by accident or 
perversity, until the Hand which made it, arrests 
the movement, and dissolves the connection. 

A variety of causes produce emotion or that 
excitement of mind which prompts to corres- 
ponding actions. The appetites, through the 
means of which natural life is supported, induce 
to that labour necessary to supply the wants of 
the body. The pleasures annexed to the senses 
of taste, smell and touch, excite to still greater 
labour in the attainment of luxurious gratifica- 
tion. Man taxes his ingenuity to procure deli- 
cate meats and drinks for his palate, conven- 
ient dwellings and soft couches for his repose. 
When by these lower sensations the intellect is 
so strongly moved that the attention is almost ex- 
clusively fixed upon them, the memory recurs to 
them with delight, and the associating power con- 
nects them with all that gives satisfaction ; then 
strong desire for sensual gratification springs up 
in the mind, and the sensitive nature, if not 
controlled by the higher operations of reason 
and conscience, takes the lead, and the whole 
soul submits to its dominion. Thus men be- 
come gluttons, drunkards and sensualists. 

The objects of sight and hearing address 
themselves not only to the intelligence but to 



324 PEELING. 

the imagination and the reason, and thus pro- 
duce lively emotions. The new and strange 
varieties in which they present themselves to 
the understanding is the foundation of curiosity 
and research. Hence the discoveries of science. 
The imagination, in the objects of sight and 
hearing, discovers qualities much finer than 
those perceived by the gross senses, such as beau- 
ty, sublimity, congruity, dignity, und harmony ; 
thus are pleasurable emotions raised which 
come under the denomination of the emotions 
of Taste. These emotions give to life an inex- 
pressible charm. 

The soul or mind as we have seen is con- 
nected to earth by the senses, and is formed not 
only to know but to enjoy all that the world of 
matter can exhibit and produce. But this is 
not all, for mind every where seeks its fellow 
mind. In his sensitive state, man is also social. 
Creating Wisdom and Goodness declared it 
" not good that he should be alone," and in 
accordance, provided such ties of kindred as 
involve endearing relations, from whence spring 
some of the strongest emotions of the soul ; 
feelings enduring as life, and sometimes stronger 
than the love of life. 

In our reason and our moral nature do we 
find other sources of strong emotion and pow- 
erful incentives to action. Reason searches for 



FEELING. 325 

cause, and in this employment, men often forget 
the cravings of nature for sustenance and re- 
pose ; they even give up the enjoyments of so- 
cial life, abandoning all in their research. Phi- 
losophers in ancient days travelled through the 
known world to seek for knowledge, and in later 
times men have boldly encountered the rigours 
of the arctic wave, and the dangers and priva- 
tions incident to adventures in high northern 
latitudes ; they have languished under the fiery 
beams of the torrid sun, and have dared the 
club of the ferocious savage, to establish facts 
important to science. 

Moral sense in its approbation of truth, just- 
ice and benevolence sometimes carries the mind 
to great and noble actions. Socrates, impelled 
by this strong emotion, instructed the youth of 
Athens in virtue and belief so contrary to hea- 
then sentiment and practice, that they laid the 
hand of violence upon the aged moralist. ' ' Alas, 
cried one of his friends, that you should die, 
being innocent." "How," replied the virtuous 
Socrates, "would you then have me die guilty ?" 
Howard, the philanthropist, in the exercise of 
his natural and sanctified benevolence, made 
long, fatiguing and repeated journies through 
Europe, Asia, and Africa, visiting the prisons, 
and relieving the prisoner degraded, afflicted 
and suffering. Nor was this all, for he exposed 



326 FEELING. 

himself to the peril of that most horrible mal- 
ady the plague, that he might search into its 
nature, and if possible discover a remedy to 
relieve suffering humanity. Thus he writes in 
his journal, " How should I bless God if such 
a worm is made the instrument of alleviating 
the miseries of my fellow creatures, and of thus 
connecting more strongly the social bond by 
mutual exertions for mutual relief." Says Fos- 
ter of him in his celebrated Essay, " The law 
that carries water down a declivity was not 
more unconquerable and unvariable than the 
determination of his feelings towards the main 
object." 

Man's moral and immortal nature, by which 
he is connected to God and a future state of ex- 
istence, is provided with a strong sense of ac- 
countability which we call Conscience. His 
sensitive nature shrinks from dissolution, and 
his conscience or moral nature looks with fore- 
bodings, sometimes with anguish intolerable, to 
a future retribution. Hence also the fear of 
death, common to all, which nothing but a well- 
founded faith in the Salvation of the Gospel, 
can overcome : and in this faith originates a 
joy which the possession of an earthly empire 
could not bestow ; a joy which no human ill, 
even the prospect of the martyr's stake, and 
the anguish of the devouring flame can destroy. 



FEELING. 327 

There is between the intellectual powers and 
the feelings a reciprocal action. When an ob- 
ject is presented to a child a feeling of pleasure 
or aversion is awakened, and the little one ex- 
hibits voluntary action in his efforts to obtain 
the pleasing object, or in turning away from the 
disagreeable one, sometimes with show of strong 
dislike. As with the infant so with others. The 
perception brings the mind in contact with ob- 
jects. A movement is thus caused and its vol- 
untary action is exhibited in the attention given 
to the object, impressing it upon the memory, 
bringing it by association to the recollection ; 
and thus in time making it the subject of all the 
powers of the intellect. 

A variety of causes depending upon our na- 
ture in connection with the circumstances in 
which we are placed, move the mind to action, 
but why some are more influenced by the ob- 
jects of the gross senses, others by the ideal or 
imaginary qualities in objects, others again by 
the social connections of life, and some few by 
the necessary and moral relations of things, we 
cannot tell. In this, as far as we can under- 
stand, seems to originate the remarkable differ- 
ence we notice in the pursuits and characters of 
mankind. In this we find the sensual mind, 
commonly coarse, sometimes brutal ; the ima- 
ginative or refined, the social or philanthropic, 



328 TASTE. 

the reasoning or philosophic, and the religious. 
Though we find these distinct classes of char- 
acter, yet we frequently find different and op- 
posite characteristics mingled in the same per- 
son. As in Savage the poet, who now appeared 
a man of refined taste and profound thought, 
now a man of pleasure, most selfish and dissi- 
pated. Or in the Emperor Marcus Aurelius, 
who was both a philosopher and a bigoted per- 
secutor of the Christians. 

To say that we should not suffer ourselves to 
be influenced by feeling, is to speak without re- 
flection. Insensibility is not a rational or moral 
state. Our Creator has given us feeling as well 
as intellect, and the right exercise of the mind 
is in the full employment and balanced action 
of all the powers of the soul. We must feel, 
but our feelings should be right. The emotions 
produced by our intellectual perceptions, by our 
social and moral relations must be guided by 
reason, by conscience, and by the Word of God. 



CHAPTER II. 



TASTE. 



Taste cannot in strictness be called a distinct 
faculty of the mind, but rather a perception of 
the qualities, bestowed upon objects by the ere- 



TASTE. 329 

ative power of the imagination. In this act of 
the mind association is also concerned in the 
discovery of relations, and judgment in the de- 
cision of their propriety. Thus taste is a deli- 
cate and complicated exercise of the intellect 
and belongs to its maturity. 

All minds probably have a perception more 
or less strong of agreeableness in the objects 
that surround them. We see in children, and 
even in savages a delight in what is new, strange 
and showy, though they seem to have but a 
slight conception of beauty. They love the 
ludicrous, and take pleasure in fun, though they 
perhaps can seldom be made to understand or 
relish wit. A tale full of mystery or terror will 
draw them in breathless attention around the 
speaker, while a scene of real sublimity would 
not affect them. But the mind as it advances 
to maturity, especially if cultivated, perceives 
beauty and sublimity, order and fitness in ob- 
jects, and feels itself moved in the contempla- 
tion. The emotion is either satisfaction, plea- 
sure, or elevation ; and, if the object be new or 
strange, curiosity and admiration. The deli- 
cate act of the mental faculties, producing these 
emotions, is called Taste. 

Genius is the creative power of the mind ; 
taste is the power of conceiving and apprecia- 
ting whatever is lovely and elevated, correct 



330 TASTE. 

and fit in creation — whether in the works of 
nature or of art. An analogy perhaps may be 
discovered in Taste and Genius to Beauty and 
Sublimity. Taste is mental beauty, genius, 
mental sublimity. In nature we find the ob- 
jects of beauty much more abundant than the 
objects of sublimity : in mind, taste is a quality 
much more common than genius. Objects of 
beauty give a gentle excitement to feeling, so 
soft and pleasant as to constitute the great charm 
of life ; objects of sublimity elevate the mind 
beyond its natural pitch, a state that cannot in 
the present existence, continue long without 
injury to the body. The refinement which is 
produced in character by a delicate and culti- 
vated taste, so softens the severer virtues, as to 
qualify its possessor the better for the difficult 
duties of social life ; while genius carrying the 
mind far beyond the common concerns of life, 
fitting it for elevated station and uncommon 
labours, often unfits it for society and the little 
offices of friendship. 

Most true it is, however, that a false refine- 
ment, bearing the name of taste, being only its 
affectation, will as surely turn away the mind 
from duty as the aberrations of genius. A per- 
son who has too much delicacy to enter the 
chamber of sickness, or the abode of poverty ; 
too much feeling to go near a friend or neigh- 



TASTE. 331 

bour in affliction ; too much refinement to de- 
scend to what is considered low employment, 
even to provide comforts, whether for a family, 
or for the sick and suffering, is surely as wrong 
as the genius who is inelegant or eccentric in 
manner, or careless and abstracted in conduct. 
These are not unfrequent faults, and they mark 
the imperfection of a nature which is ever aspi- 
ring, though it too often mistakes the road to 
perfection. 

There are instances in which genius and taste 
are beautifully blended, the intellectual nature 
in sweet subjection to the moral, and bowing in 
lovely humility at the feet of Religion. Such 
was Dr. Watts ; such was Hannah More. This 
union of the elevated and beautiful qualities of 
mind affords a fit subject for admiration. Taste 
cultivated by education, corrected by reason, 
refined by Religion, must pay its homage to the 
sublimity of genius united to the beauty of holi- 
ness ; and though the eye of imagination may 
cast an admiring look upon the efforts of genius, 
unconnected with virtue, the glance will be 
transient — the pure mind will recoil from it as 
from the beauty of the basilisk. 

This delicate action of the mental powers un- 
doubtedly qualifies man for the enjoyment of 
pleasures far superior to those procured by his 
animal nature. Not only is he enabled to per- 



332 TASTE. 

ceive and enjoy the perfection of skill exhibited 
in the material works of the Divine Artist, but 
also the perfection of the last and noblest piece 
of His workmanship — the human soul. The 
labours of past ages exhibit the power of the 
intellect, and the inventions of the present show 
its undiminished energy. The mind through its 
imaginative perceptions, and by the delicacy of 
its emotions assimilates itself with the great and 
the good of the past, and in exalted enthusiasm 
enters into the labours and the achievements of 
the glorious dead : so also, is it drawn by kin- 
dred feeling into friendship with the worthy of 
the present, whether of our own or distant 
countries. Blessed endowment of the Creator, 
whereby we enjoy the beauty so profusely scat- 
tered over His works, and whereby we are so 
strongly united in the bonds of social intercourse ; 
by which minds reciprocate thought and feeling. 
Thus may we have a foretaste and an earnest 
of the delights prepared in another state of ex- 
istence, for those who love and serve Him. 

But it may be, you object that this perception 
of the beautiful and the sublime as well as other 
delicate qualities in objects, has no necessary con- 
nection with the moral nature of man, does not 
lead him to the Giver of good, since it is bestowed 
upon the most infidel among the scientific, and the 
most immoral among poets, as well as upon th& 



TASTE. 333 

moralizing philosopher and the cultivated Chris- 
tian. True, but it is only another instance of 
the aberration of the human intellect ; it marks 
the divine original, but fallen ; for would the 
infidel but listen to his reason he must be con- 
vinced by the innumerable marks of adaptation, 
skill and beauty impressed upon every object 
he meets, that they are the works of Infinite 
Design ; his moral sense would teach that the De- 
signer must be Good ; that this goodness is that 
of a Father. Not to love goodness where we 
perceive it, and especially when we are the ob- 
jects of it, marks great depravity, and ingratitude 
is one of the most odious traits of human char- 
acter. The loan of a common article of use, 
will draw thanks from the grateful bosom, what 
then must be the feeling with which we receive 
as a possession for a life-time, not only a valu- 
able property, but one to which every conven- 
ience and elegance is added. He only truly, 
because gratefully, enjoys, 

"Who with filial confidence inspired, 
Can lift to heav'n an unpresumptuous eye, 
And smiling say — " My Father made them all: 
Are they not His by a peculiar right, 
And by an emphasis of interest his, 
Whose eye they fill with tears of holy joy, 
Whose heart with praise ?" Cowper. 

« Unfortunate Rousseau, who styled himself 






334 TASTE. 

the priest of nature, cast in his dying hours a 
longing, lingering look at the last beautiful sun- 
set he ever saw, but did that hope of departing 
to a brighter world of purer, higher beauty, 
cheer his gloomy spirit ? It is to be feared that 
many a gifted one, whose thoughts seem steeped 
in earthly loveliness, has but little relish for the 
beauties of holiness, the glories of the upper 
Paradise. Still we must admit that the percep- 
tion such have of the beautiful and sublime is 
a faculty that belongs to a godlike nature. Mis- 
erable indeed are those who use it only in its 
perversion. 

Various causes may be assigned for the di- 
versity of taste so often noticed in mind. I 
would here refer you to what has been already 
remarked of the same kind of diversity found 
among us with regard to the senses. Some 
persons have an imperfect conception of colours, 
on account of a defect in the eye, others of sounds, 
arising from the like defect in the ear. Glaring, 
though coarse objects, might please the first ; 
noisy sounds, though discordant, might not offend 
the last. A like diversity is found in the intellec- 
tual perception, founded in the imagination. 

There are other causes which contribute to 
this diversity. 

" 'Tis education forms the common mind." 
The savage is perhaps more skilful in handling 



TASTE. 335 

the bow and arrow than the cultivated man ; 
but place him aside of the farmer and see his 
awkwardness in the cultivation of a field or 
garden. This is not on account of any natural 
ability in the savage for managing the bow, or 
incapability of sowing or planting a field, but 
because he does well what he has been taught 
to do. Custom has given him a facility for one 
kind of labour, and want of custom has ren- 
dered him unskilful in the other. Thus by habit 
may the mind be rendered skilful in perceiving 
beauties as well as in detecting defects. 

We are all aware that we cannot conceive of 
objects which we have never seen, of which we 
have never heard or read, neither would our 
imagination take delight in things with which it 
has no agreeable association. The savage of 
our wilds would be little struck with our pic- 
tures or our music, he would scarcely compre- 
hend them ; to his unpractised eye and ear they 
would convey no meaning ; but the paint upon 
the warrior's cheek and the battle song, would 
rouse him, they convey the ideas of revenge 
and glory to his mind. The cultivated fields 
and gardens of the white man would give him 
no pleasure, for he would think of his hunting 
grounds laid low by the stroke of the axe, and 
the burial places of his fathers desecrated by 
the furrow of the plough. 



336 TASTE. 

Taste, as it depends more upon the under- 
standing than the reason, will be more or less 
in exercise according as the objects offered to 
the mind in youth have been addressed to its 
more delicate perceptions. How can taste for 
the beauties of nature be formed in those who 
pass their lives in cities and seldom gaze on 
field, or flood, or sky ? They will probably take 
pleasure in the splendors of fashion and be 
much delighted at a magnificent entertainment. 
How can the traveller look with enthusiasm on 
the ruins of Greece, when he has never read of 
the City of Pericles, the battle-field of Miltiades, 
or the glorious three hundred of Thermopylae ? 
Few boys become mathematicians without in- 
struction ; few girls grow up refined and pol- 
ished women without training. But there is 
this difference in the cases — science may be 
acquired after the mind has reached maturity, 
but refinement cannot. If in childhood the 
mind has received coarse, low and indelicate 
conceptions, the most careful teaching will not 
be able to efface the impression. The natural 
bent of the mind will be seen, and though judg- 
ment in after life may teach the necessity of 
correction, 3^ it is probable that the assumed 
refinement will have the appearance of affecta- 
tion. Let mothers think of this. 

The cares of a life filled with the hurry of 



TASTE. 337 

business, with the anxieties of accumulation, 
with the toils of fashion, unfit the mind for the 
refined emotions. To enjoy these it must be in 
tune and at leisure for contemplation. How 
much do those lose who never allow themselves 
time to contemplate the starry heavens ; to gaze 
on the moonlight as it " sleeps on bank" and 
copse, or dances merrily upon the rippling tide ; 
to inhale the breath of flowers, or listen till the 
eye fills with emotion to the sweet strains of the 
evening hymn. Surely there is enough of life 
for its cares, its toils, its disappointments ; who 
would not snatch a few moments from pain and 
vexation to enjoy the sweets of nature and the 
benefactions of Providence ? With what feel- 
ings do those pray who never consider the 
heavens the work of His fingers, the moon and 
the stars which He has ordained ? Thus re- 
gardless, how can they raise their hearts to His 
glory which He has set above the heavens ? 

How much do those lose who hold little or no 
communion with the minds of the great and the 
good; who even with the inclination, seldom 
find the opportunity to enjoy a profitable book ; 
who scarce find an hour for the endearing inter- 
course of home and of friendship ; who live in 
the throng, attaching themselves to the locomo- 
tive that with the greatest velocity propels the 

machinery of life ! Ah, do not days fly away, 
22 



338 TASTE. 

and nights also, in which no prayer has been 
put up to the Giver of Life ? Will not Death 
come before the poor worn-out spirit has had 
leisure to enjoy its present existence, to make 
acquaintance with itself, or its God ; to perform 
the duties belonging to kindred, to friendship, 
to society, and make preparation for its imme- 
diate, perhaps sudden transition to another state 
of existence ? 

But the stronger emotions subdue for a time, 
and even destroy the weaker. Violent grief, 
or passion of any kind would withdraw the at- 
tention from the objects of beauty and sublim- 
ity. With the soul absorbed in sorrow, the 
darkest midnight or the barren heath would be 
in better accordance than the brightest sunshine, 
and the loveliest landscape. Of Howard in the 
accomplishment of his plans for the good of 
mankind, it is remarked ; " The importance 
of this object held his faculties in a state of 
excitement, which was too rigid to be af- 
fected by lighter interests, and on which there- 
fore the beauties of nature and of art had no 
power."* 

There is no improvement in the works of the 
imagination, for this reason ; they are the in- 
vention of genius, and genius cannot be com- 
municated, or copied. What poetic age has 
* Foster's Essays. 



TASTE. 339 

ever produced strains more elevated than the 
Song of Moses, more touching to the heart than 
the Psalms of David, more sublime than the 
Prophecies of Isaiah f Virgil did not equal 
Homer who served as his model, neither has 
the skill of ages ever surpassed the fine speci- 
mens of Grecian architecture, nor has the study 
of elocution from his day to the present ever 
given a rival to Demosthenes. Genius is a sort 
of inspiration ; " born not made." When taste 
is connected with genius it may happen that 
inferior beauties which give pleasure to the 
multitude afford very little or none to superior 
minds, that have already expended themselves 
on higher efforts. 

Taste if not made, may at least greatly be im- 
proved, as it depends much on the habit of correct 
association already explained, as well as upon the 
judgment of comparing art with nature. It very 
often degenerates with those who in this day are 
called the "talented," for the ability to execute 
being the result of labour, it must happen that 
they who labour to provide a variety sufficient to 
gratify the appetite of a demanding community, 
will depart from the beautiful simplicity of taste 
and overload their productions with ornament. 
Again in the affectation of simplicity they are 
liable to degenerate into insipidity ; or in be- 
coming copyists of those whose genius they 



340 TASTE. 

admire, they abandon all dependence on the 
power of their own imagination. 

Taste is frequently connected with genius, 
but not always so. Of this the readers of Shaks- 
peare must be well aware. A man of genius 
writes or speaks because he has something on 
his mind he wishes to communicate, and is 
often, through strong feeling, carried beyond 
refinement. In his impetuosity he does not stop 
to make selections. Affectation will, however, 
in some, produce an attempt at embellishment 
at the expense of truth and common sense. 
" The compliments of Savage," says Dr. John- 
son, " are constrained and violent, heaped to- 
gether without the grace of order or the decency 
of introduction." It is related of Malherbe, a 
French poet, who had so refined his own lan- 
guage as to elevate it to the majesty of the ode, 
that one hour before his death he rebuked his 
nurse for using a word not pure French. His 
humour was sarcastic and his life vicious. He 
was sufficiently devoid of reason and religion 
to refuse to hear conversation about eternal 
concerns at that solemn hour, because as he 
said, he could not bear the inelegance of the 
style.* Indeed that mind cannot be truly re- 
fined in which the associations are not in ac- 
cordance with its rational and moral nature. 
* Dictionnaire Historique. 



TASTE. 341 

Burns had a fine genius for poetry, but it is said 
he had not that delicacy and refinement of taste 
which might have been expected in so great a 
poet. In prose composition he had not a relish 
for the beauty of simplicity, but preferred the 
quaintness of point and antethesis. Poor Burns, 
highly gifted as he was, the lowest pleasures, 
so incompatible with true refinement, led him 
to the tavern, there to display the wild sallies 
of his wit, and show the strength and degrada- 
tion of his genius.* 

In Coleridge, we have an example of the del- 
icacy of taste united with the strength of genius ; 
an illustration of his own idea of a great mind. 
Strong minds, he says, rnay be imposing, coarse, 
as often wrong as right ; great minds unite fem- 
inine softness with masculine power. Coleridge 
is thus described in his visit to the British Gal- 
lery of Paintings. " He was in high spirits and 
seemed to kindle in his mind at the contempla- 
tion of the splendid pictures before him. I can 
yet distinctly recall him, half leaning on his old 
simple stick, with his hat off in his hand. What 
the company thought of this silver-haired, bright- 
eyed, music-breathing old man, I cannot guess. 
His admiration for Reubens showed itself in a 
sort of brotherly fondness. " Reubens," said 
he, " does not take for his subjects grand or 
* Life of Robert Burns, by Dr. Currie. 



342 TASTE. 

novel conformations of objects ; he has no pre- 
cipices, no forests, no frowning castles. No,, he 
gets some little ponds, old tumble-down cot- 
tages, two or three peasants, a hay-rick and 
other such humble images, and handles these 
every-day ingredients of all common landscape 
as they are handled in nature. He extracts the 
latent poetry out of these common objects — 
that poetry and harmony which every man of 
genius perceives in the face of nature." He 
would sometimes say after looking a minute at 
a picture, generally a modern one, " There is 
no use in stopping at this j for I see the painter 
had no idea. It is mere mechanical drawing- 
Come on, here the artist meant something for the 
mind." It was just the same with his know- 
ledge of music. His appetite for what he thought 
good was inexhaustible. He told me he could 
listen to fine music for twelve hours together, 
and go awa}^ refreshed. But he required in 
music either thought or feeling; mere addresses 
to the sensual ear he could not away with."* 

This' long quotation will give to you a better 
idea of Taste in the Fine Arts than perhaps I 
could convey by explanation. When the mind 
is truly refined its perceptions and correspond- 
ing emotions will accord with truth natural and 
moral. In the works of imagination it will de- 

* Table Talk. 



TASTE. 343 

tect a departure from nature, from reason, and 
morality. Such a mind will find delight in the 
varied loveliness which nature spreads over the 
flowers of the field, the plumage of the bird, 
the clouds of heaven, but it will turn wearied, 
perhaps disgusted from the unsparing embel- 
lishment, the gorgeous splendour with which art 
sometimes seeks to outdo nature. Such a mind 
will distinguish between wit and the offending 
jest ; between simplicity and the affectation of 
it. In the fine specimens of art, in painting, 
in music, in architecture, in oratory, in litera- 
ture, fashion will not be its guide. The deli- 
cate and cultivated mind will seek in the artist 
or author for feelings correspondent w T ith its 
own ; for the beautiful simplicity and majesty 
of nature ; for adaptation in the work to ra- 
tional thought and correct sentiment : and if it 
be a. work intended for use, for its adaptation 
to the convenience that shall make it conducive 
to comfort and happiness. Thus do the works 
of art imitate those of the great Designer of 
Nature, and are in accordance with that intel- 
lectual perception of the mind called Taste. 

True refinement of mind will seek in char- 
acter that which is beautiful and elevated, not 
according to the standards set up by custom, 
upon the selfish principles of a corrupt nature, 
but according to truth, as reason and moral 



344 TASTE. 

sense perceive -it; above all as the Bible, which 
we as professors of Christianity, acknowledge 
to be the word of Truth, presents it. 

It perhaps may not be amiss to say that among 
the many improvements suggested in the pre- 
sent day for the subject of education, and the 
multiplied acquisitions, in consequence, made by 
our sex, the cultivation of their taste is too much 
neglected. The tender and elevated verse of 
Tasso, the pure and lofty strains of Milton, have 
given place to the exciting, though immoral muse, 
of Byron and others like him. Vulgar and pro- 
fane wit are now seen where once, lay the pages 
that contained the delicate satires of Addison. 
The almost divine allegory of Bunyan is by 
many considered inferior to its imitation. In- 
deed, who now are much conversant with the 
classic pages of the past ? The moral tale, the 
historical novel, the gleanings of travellers make 
up the sum of common reading. 

In what- are called the accomplishments in 
education, together with the ornaments in dress, 
and fhe furniture of the domestic home, we 
abandon the directions of the taste, so natural 
to woman, and suffer ourselves to be guided by 
those artists who must change the fashion to 
provoke fresh wants, and occasion new de- 
mands upon their labours. The most exquisite 
music is thrown aside because not new, the 



TASTE. 345 

dress and furniture that drew forth high admi- 
ration is uow exchanged because unfashion- 
able. Women thus setting aside the judgment 
that would bring contentment with the comforts, 
and even elegancies, in possession, often involve 
their families in difficulties, and help to bring 
into their country the luxury, which sooner or 
later will end in the ruin that luxury has brought 
upon the great empires of the past. 

Let woman be true to her rational nature and 
her moral feeling, then will her associations of 
thought be correct, her imagination active and 
delicate, she will revolt at coarseness and im- 
morality, and assert her own right to stand in- 
dependent of fashion, or rather by the cultiva- 
tion of her well balanced mind, be herself its 
lawgiver. While a provision for the sustenance 
of life belongs to man, its happiness, was en- 
trusted to woman. Therefore should she be 
cultivated. Though it be not important that 
she sing like Malibran, yet her gentle voice 
heard in the soft song, at the sweet hour of twi- 
light, not necessarily in a fashionable air, but 
one to which all the feelings of the soul respond, 
will throw a soothing charm over the wearied 
spirit of a fond father. Then if the cheerful, 
clear, and tastefully arranged apartment, pre- 
sents the attraction of a well chosen book, 
read in the clear and finely modulated tones of 



346 TASTE. 

an educated woman, whose affectionate looks 
and intellectual remarks give evidence of well 
directed thought and kindest feeling, that man 
must be wanting in some of the best emotions 
his nature who could coldly cast away such 
happiness. Oh would not the rescue of a be- 
loved husband from the popular causes of ex- 
citement that involve so many families in ruin, 
making him as much a bankrupt in happiness 
as in fortune, be worth this sacrifice, if it may 
be called a sacrifice, of time in a wife ? Would 
not the salvation of a dear brother from the in- 
fluence of evil associates be worth the sacrifice 
of the evening visit to a loving sister ? 

True refinement of mind is always attended 
with a perception and love of fitness and pro- 
priety, as well as of beauty and sublimity. The 
woman of delicate perception will in the first 
place examine herself, and sooner detect her 
own improprieties than those of her neighbour : 
she knows them more certainly, they interest 
her more nearly, and she has the power to rec- 
tify them. Such a person will avoid rudeness 
in her manners, indelicacy or coarseness in her 
appearance. She will suit her dress to her cir- 
cumstances, and no circumstance, either of hurry 
or small means, will induce her to forego neat- 
ness and agreeable arrangement; nor will wealth 
or fashion oblige her to load her attire with or- 



TASTE. 347 

nament, or draw her into what is ridiculous or 
immodest. To a woman of good taste affecta- 
tion is abhorrent, feeling, as she must, that it is 
not only a species of falsehood, but that it ren- 
ders one the object of ridicule and disgust. 
Having an eye for beauty, she will discover the 
beauty of actions and character as well as ma- 
terial beauty ; hence in her judgment no action 
of duty or kindness will be considered degra- 
ding, but rather the omission of it. She would 
blush at incivility to the poor or aged. In ad- 
dressing a domestic or dependant, the tones of 
her voice will acquire unwonted softness, and 
instead of delivering commands, she seems to 
solicit favours. Her parents are the objects of her 
tenderest veneration : she would consider herself 
wanting in self-respect did she not respect all 
the feelings of her mother, or be unwilling to 
share the labours devolving upon her. In her 
manners and actions there is a uniform propri- 
ety. To wound the feelings of a sister, or by 
a sarcasm or slight, to give pain to any one, 
would to her correct and delicate thoughts, seem 
impossible. 

Such is the woman whose associations are 
correct, whose judgment is sound, whose ima- 
gination is active and governed by reason. Her 
moral sense will not suffer her, even though 
wanting in spiritual piety, to join in a jest on 



348 EMOTIONS CONNECTED 

the subject, which to her correct mind must ap- 
pear of awful import — Religion. Such a wo- 
man will pass through life honoured and loved. 
Ah, how deplored, and how deplorable should 
she at its close still be wanting in the " one thing 
needful." 



CHAPTER IE. 

EMOTIONS CONNECTED WITH OUR HAPPINESS. 

The mind, as I have endeavoured to explain 
to you, is moved to action by various external 
causes, operating upon its own nature. Let us 
first consider the gentler emotions more im- 
mediately concerned in the happiness of life. 
These emotions though founded in our moral 
and social nature, depend much upon the right 
cultivation of the imagination, and the correct 
association of our thoughts. Our moral sense 
shews us the right, the true and the good in ac- 
tion, and the imagination which sees the beau- 
tiful immediately applies that quality to the 
character which exhibits such actions. We 
shall look at agreeableness or beauty mostly as 
it regards our social state. 

" The idea of the beautiful," says Cousin, 
" is equally inherent in the mind as that of the 



WITH OJJR HAPPINESS. 349 

useful and the just."* The ills of life are in- 
numerable, and might render us perpetually 
wretched ; even in circumstances of comfort, 
the anticipation drawn from reason and expe- 
* rience that suffering in some form or other will 
be our lot, would cast a gloomy shade around 
us, had we not a resource against this melan- 
choly provided in our very nature. This re- 
source is in the imagination which enables the 
mind to extract delight from objects, as " bees 
draw nectar from flowers," to seek out the beau- 
tiful, and to look forward, not in despair of hap- 
piness, but in the hope of some good yet unen- 
joyed. This it is that awakens the soft emotions 
of the heart, that throws a nameless attraction 
over the objects around us, so that unless the 
mind has within it the unnatural gloom of dis- 
content, or is oppressed by some stronger emo- 
tion, it will be drawn out in admiration or in 
love towards the objects of its perceptions. In- 
deed the charm is so strong that many are by 
it fatally bound to the present world ; the great- 
est afflictions and even the prospect of death, 
have not the power to disengage them from the 
attraction. 

This delicate perception of our nature was 
not bestowed that we might pervert it to our 
undoing, but that through it we might be ren- 

* His. of Philosophy. 



350 EMOTIONS CONNECTED 

dered capable of enjoying the bounteous gifts 
of the " Parent of Good," that we might be 
more strongly attached to each other by the 
sweet sympathies of life ; and be excited to 
action in the attainment of desirable objects : 
but above all, to enable us to look from this 
world to a better, where beauty shall never be 
marred by deformity, and sorrow never mingle 
in the cup of joy. 

The qualities in objects, either of art or na- 
ture that give rise to pleasurable emotions, are 
various. Colour and form, delicacy and bril- 
liancy, simplicity and variety, lowliness and 
elevation, order and fitness are all attractive, 
and produce in the mind the simple emotions of 
pleasure, calm and soothing. To be sensible 
of this let us take a ramble at morning's sweetest 
hour, in some sunny clime, where Art is hand- 
maid to Nature. Our departing steps, as we 
leave the mansion, echo along the marble pave- 
ment of the spacious halls. We stop in trav- 
ersing the inner courts to examine the gushing 
fountains, the baths, and the large stone basins 
supplied with the cool element so refreshing be- 
neath the beams of the torrid sun. We pass 
through the low arched and massy porch, al- 
most concealed by draperies of white flowered 
jasmine, while rare and beautiful exotics border 
the path which leads to the ascending mountain. 



WITH OUR HAPPINESS. 351 

Here in the garden which hangs upon its ac- 
clivity, art appears in all the wildness and beauty 
of nature. Large forest trees shade with their 
thick branches a small transparent lake, and 
the silvery fish sport in the clear water, sup- 
plied from the streams that pour themselves in 
tiny cataracts down the overhanging rocks. 
Now we take our ascending way, assisted by 
flights of steps that seem like moss-covered foot- 
prints on the solid rock, winding our path through 
groves of the yellow accacia, mingling their 
branches with the pomegranate, covered with 
its scarlet flowers ; while the morning breeze is 
fragrant with the odours it gathers from the 
orange, the lemon and the rich variety of blos- 
soms, that are glittering with the dew-drops. 
We reach the summit of the hill and repose in 
a simple pavilion. Now the rising sun tinges 
with gold the fleecy cloud that hangs over the 
dark forests, crowning the top of the mountain, 
and as the light strikes upon the buildings and 
spires of the city which stands on its base, 
the mind is filled and delighted with the objects 
of its perceptions. 

In the foregoing instance, beside the natural 
beauty we perceive in the flowers and trees, in 
the mountain, the ocean and the heavens, we 
find ourselves affected by the ingenuity of the 
mind, that upon the side of a common moun- 



352 EMOTIONS CONNECTED 

tain, could form a sort of Paradise, making 
rocks and streams where nature had not made 
them. This is the creative power of imagina- 
tion that we admire in painting and poetry. 
This illustration, for the above description is 
not a fancy sketch, affords us matter for further 
remark. The design of the house and garden, 
planned, as in truth it was, with reference to 
comfort, convenience, and agreeableness, origi- 
nated in some of the best feelings of our nature 
— the desire of an affectionate husband to make 
up to a cultivated woman, and exemplary wife 
and mother, the sacrifices he feared she made 
to her family, by devoting all her time and ac- 
quirements to their service. The social affec- 
tions were beautifully displayed in the family 
circle, assembled at the calm hour when the 
ocean reflected from a southern sky the last 
rays of the departing sun. There, under the 
shade of the most luxuriant foliage in the world, 
was the fond father, with the little flock, made 
orphans by the sudden death of her for whose 
sake he had planned these beauties. Many 
years since have passed, but association now 
brings to remembrance the sad expression 
of that intellectual face, the polished brow and 
the dark eye, humid with feeling, as it followed 
the bounding steps of frolic childhood. By his 
side was seated the intelligent and pious sister, 



WITH OUR HAPPINESS. 353 

who shared his cares and sorrows ; who when 
recollection seemed too bitter would exclaim, 
" patience, dear Brother, will soon overcome 
all our trials ;" and with the sweetest smile 
illuminating her countenance, would add, "and 
see how good is God to leave us so many bles- 
sings !■" 

It is difficult in this place to refrain from 
giving the exhibition of a character so full of 
beauty in the midst of the most corrupting in- 
fluence. This right-minded man, once seeing 
on the table of a friend, a copy of the Holy 
Scriptures, forbidden him by his religion, exam- 
ined it attentively, expressing an ardent desire 
to possess the whole of the Sacred Book in his 
own language, of which he had only parts ; ex- 
claiming as did Luther in similar circumstances, 
"What would I not give for a complete Bible !" 

The works of Nature please us because the 
imagination in them discovers intrinsic beauty 
— agreeableness in form and colour; they also 
please from the associated qualities of skill in 
the workmanship and design in the Creator. 
The works of art afford us pleasure because 
we perceive the beauty of imitation, with the 
skill and design that display the power and per- 
fection of the human mind. It is mind or soul 
we seek every where ; sensual or stupid indeed 

must he be who does not seek it : therefore does 
23 



354 EMOTIONS CONNECTED 

mental and moral beauty chiefly affect the in- 
tellectual, spiritual soul. The human frame in 
itself is the most finished piece of workmanship 
in the material world. The beauty of its form, 
the assemblage so lovely and delicate of lines 
and colour in the face, draw forth ardent admi- 
ration. But in this the mind is not satisfied, it 
seeks the kindred spirit beaming through the 
eye, and mantling in the eloquent blood upon 
the cheek : it seeks the expression, not only in 
the countenance, but in the conduct, of benevo- 
lence, gentleness, meekness ; in feeling, it seeks 
for affection and gratitude ; in character, for 
truth, sincerity and justice. Where these qual- 
ities are not discovered, the beauty of the fairest 
form would not more affect the mind, perhaps 
not as much, as the beauty of a statue, for in 
this last, the mind would be satisfied and af- 
fected with the skill of the artist. In the human 
form it would expect a soul ; the disappoint- 
ment seems like an injury, and in some instances 
turns admiration to dislike. The affectation of 
the beautiful qualities of mind and character is 
quickly discovered, and produces an emotion 
the reverse of sympathy and love : we turn 
away disgusted and suspicious. 

Says St. Pierre ; " to no purpose will a man 
attempt to decorate his countenance with the 
indications of good qualities to which his heart 



WITH OUR HAPPINESS. 355 

is a stranger. This false beauty produces an 
effect still more disgusting than the most deci- 
ded ugliness ; for when attracted by apparent 
goodness, we actually find dishonesty and per- 
fidy, we are seized with horror, as when we find 
a serpent in a bed of flowers." 

The benevolence which forgets self in the 
duties of kindness, that rejoices in the prosper- 
ity of others, that forgives even the unkindness 
of friends, that takes no knowledge of enemies 
except in praying for them and doing them kind 
offices ; in fine, the benevolence that rests upon 
the precept, " Love thy neighbour as thy- 
self," is moral beauty. Such was the beauty 
exhibited in the character of our Saviour, and 
such is the beauty that should adorn His fol- 
lowers. It is the beauty, without which the 
most symmetrical form, the most brilliant en- 
dowments of genius, and the enthusiasm that 
would remove mountains, is nothing. 

The objects presented by the eye, affect, as 
we have already perceived, the soul in a variety 
of ways ; so do sounds conveyed to the mind 
by the ear. There is within us a chord that 
vibrates to melody and harmony as well as to 
beauty, as strongly, perhaps more quickly and 
more powerfully ; for sound seeming the more 
immediate expression of the heart, affects the 
sympathies more immediately: Nature is full 



356 EMOTIONS CONNECTED 

of music. The breezes of the spring, the rip- 
pling of the brooks loosened from their " icy 
fetters," the first song of the bird, and the soft 
bleating of the lamb, speak the praise of Him 
who diffuses gladness through all His works. 
The noise of the cataract, the blast of the hur- 
ricane, the roar of the ocean, the peal of thun- 
der, tell of His majesty and power, and while 
they fill the mind with awe, call forth its deep 
gratitude for preserving Goodness. 

If the mind is formed to understand and feel 
the language of the Almighty in the unintelli- 
gent creation, it is also endowed with the ability 
of understanding and feeling the thoughts and 
emotions, which by the voice are communicated 
from kindred minds. Language, the natural 
expression of the immaterial thought, connects 
in a state of brotherhood the whole human fam- 
ily. One great mind communicates its know- 
ledge and experience to others : thus did the 
wisdom of Egypt pass into Greece ; Greece in 
turn gave its knowledge, its poetry and its elo- 
quence to Rome, and thought, an ever-rolling 
stream, encreasing as it flows, now pours all the 
treasured wisdom of time, past and present, 
at our feet. But the greatest blessing bestowed 
through language is the Divine Word, pro- 
claimed first by the audible Voice, then upon 
the inspired page. This, from the time it an- 



WITH OUR HAPPINESS. 357 

nounced salvation through the " seed of the 
woman," for more than five thousand ages, has 
carried consolation and joy, to the broken 
hearted, of every clime, of every name and 
degree ; and until the sound of the Trumpet 
awakes the dead and proclaims the end of time, 
it will not cease to fill the soul with transporting 
emotion. 

Music, aided by song, has in all ages, been 
used to enlighten, to soften and to refine ; even 
the untamed savage of the desert feels their 
united influence. The association of ideas with 
the melody of sounds has helped to fasten the 
most sterile truths upon the memory, and thus 
has knowledge, which at first had no other 
record, been transmitted from age to age. The 
songs of the poet, and the eloquence of the 
philosopher drew men together in social assem- 
blages, and united them by some of the sympa- 
thies which they afterwards found strengthened 
and purified by the Gospel of peace. Pytha- 
goras, one of the most ancient among heathen 
philosophers, thought so highly of the effect of 
music in correcting the fiercer passions, that he 
used with his disciples two kinds, one in the 
morning to awaken the mind, the other in the 
evening to restore it after the fatigues of the 
day- How profitable to us, even at this en- 
lightened period, might be such a use of music. 



358 EMOTIONS CONNECTED 

The hymn of praise and self-dedication, raised 
at morning devotion, by united voices at the 
family altar, might give a tone of activity to the 
business and duties of the day ; and when its 
cares and labours have nearly exhausted the 
wearied frame, how sweetly would the evening 
song refresh the sinking spirit. 

Music has the power of moving the heart to 
the most exalted emotions. It was the touching 
voice and charming songs of the young Luther, 
who thus sought of a hard public the bread that 
supported him while he devoted his childhood 
to study, that moved the noble lady, Ursula 
Cotta, when the poor boy, despairing and starv- 
ing, was about to return to the forge of his father, 
to provide that support which enabled the fu- 
ture Reformer to prosecute the studies that were 
blessed in restoring the light of Truth to Chris- 
tendom. It was the power of music and poetry 
that stirred up the ardent mind of the young 
Hans Sachs, at the commencement of this pe- 
riod, to holy enthusiasm ; and it was his music 
and poetry that then filled the minds of his 
countrymen with strong emotions of indigna- 
tion, as he passed through the cities of Ger- 
many, exposing, in song, the overwhelming 
abominations of Popery. Then, as the Ref- 
ormation burst upon the world, Sachs found in 
his Bible, a constant theme for his hymns and 



WITH OUR HAPPINESS. 359 

sacred songs, which he set to the sweetest mu- 
sic. They rapidly spread through cities, vil- 
lages and hamlets, and to Hans Sachs, the poet 
and musician, was ascribed the honour of greatly 
promoting the cause of liberty and religious 
truth.* 

If music addresses itself so powerfully to the 
best feelings of the soul, pity it is, that among 
us, it seems not yet to have attained its holy in- 
fluence. In searching for the cause, shall we not 
find it in the fact, that it is too much addressed 
to the senses, too much intended for display, 
too much under the influence of fashion ? Music 
is mostly used where persons of variety of taste 
and age assemble, some for conversation, others 
for amusement. Here the hum of other voices 
makes discord, and draws away the attention 
from the best performance of the most exquisite 
melody. To many, it is even an annoyance, for 
with some degree of taste, the mind is not in 
tune for it ; perhaps is deeply absorbed in an 
interesting topic of conversation. Besides, the 
performer is often a delicate, timid and young 
girl, who without any special love for the art, 
has been taught it as an accomplishment, which 
would inevitably procure her admiration, and 
she rises after an agonizing performance, almost 
in tears of mortification, sensible as she is, in 

* His. of the Reformation, from Merle D'Ambigoe. 



360 EMOTIONS CONNECTED 

the profusion of the compliments she receives, 
that the cessation of the music is a relief to 
many of the company. 

Let not the power of communicating the gen- 
tlest, the most delicate, as well as the most ele- 
vated feelings of the soul, in sounds that are 
given to the human voice to awaken reciprocal 
emotions, be offered up a sacrifice at the shrine 
of vanity or custom. Let it be used as a sweet- 
ening engredient in the cup of life. Where 
friends meet in social intercourse, there let the 
spirit-stirring harmony or sweet song afford a 
delightful variety to the soft communion. When 
the toils of the day are over, and the fond father 
reposes in the smiles that cheer his heart, then 
let the choice piece of music be selected, the 
song, or the hymn. Surely the unison of voice 
and heart will make sweeter melody to the soul, 
than the most brilliant performance where they 
are not : and will afford more gratification to a 
cultivated and delicate woman than the loudest 
applauses. 

But above all, in the Sanctuary should the 
finest melody of the voice be offered to the God 
of our salvation. " Let those refuse to sing who 
never knew the Lord," but let not the professor 
of the religion of Jesus Christ, though elevated 
in station and cultivated in taste, refuse to join 
the accents of her voice to the humblest lay 



WITH OUR HAPPINESS. 361 

ever offered to her Saviour. Such a theme 
must awaken the emotions of the grateful, pious 
bosom, must open a sweet communion with 
kindred souls, be they ever so lowly ; must 
lead the mind, through its associating power, 
to that glorious assembly which never breaks 
up, that in harmonious and sweet accords, strike 
their golden harps to His praise, who redeemed 
them by His own blood. 

How strong are the emotions that arise from 
the various ties by which men are bound to each 
other in the social relations. There is within 
us, unless we discard the promptings of our 
moral nature, a feeling, which forbids us to cast 
off from our sympathies, even the poor savage of 
the wilderness, or the slave degraded by bond- 
age. They are brethren, and pity, for their 
condition will rise in the bosom ; the oppressed, 
the afflicted, and the ignorant in all lands, under 
whatever form of suffering, will meet compas- 
sion, and claim benevolence. Unhappy indeed 
would it be for the human family if these feel- 
ings were not among the strongest and most de- 
lightful of the emotions. Howard, even in his 
boyhood was remarkable for his benevolence ; 
as his mind matured he exhibited a refinement 
of taste, and a delight in the social ties of kindred 
and of friendship. But his pious soul flowed 
out in pity, most of all for those, who seemed 



362 EMOTIONS CONNECTED 

cut off from the common charities of men, 
as well by removal from their sight, being 
shut up in prisons, as by the degradation of 
their crimes. But the benevolent Howard dis- 
dained them not ; for them he sacrificed his own 
pleasant home, traversed the fertile plains of 
Europe and the desolate regions of Asia, and 
scarce knew repose ; but he sent joy to the heart 
of the sufferer, he procured comfortable rest for 
the aching limbs of the prisoner ; he provided 
food for his hunger, medicine for his diseased 
body, and the Bread of Life for his perishing 
soul. The benevolent feelings of this extraor- 
dinary man, prompting to such actions, were to 
him a spring of constant delight. " I hope, said 
he, I have sources of enjoyment that depend not 
on the particular spot I inhabit ; a richly culti- 
vated mind, under the power of religion and the 
exertion of benevolent dispositions, is a ground 
of satisfaction little affected by here and there"* 

The friendship that draws individuals to each 
other, gives a charm to life, refining to the mind ; 
softening the asperities of character, subduing 
its selfishness, and often prompting to the noble 
efforts that result from the union of kindred 
minds directed to the same object. This senti- 
ment, providing pleasures out of the family re- 
lation, which some, from the adverse circum. 

* Memoirs of John Howard. 



WITH OUR HAPPINESS. 363 

stances of life, never enjoy, and which a promis- 
cuous intercourse with the world cannot bestow, 
seems a most beneficial dispensation of Provi- 
dence. Our nature, social in its emotions and 
prompted by moral sense to attach itself to vir- 
tuous objects, is also provided against the de- 
ception practised upon it by sensual feelings. 
Irrational are they, and often bitterly deceived, 
who refuse to listen, in this instance, to the ad- 
monitions of this internal prompter. 

•The ties of natural relationship are those that 
give rise to some of the strongest emotions of 
which human nature is susceptible. In a world 
rendered selfish by sin, it would seem, as if the 
bountiful Dispenser of Good, in commiseration 
for the condition of creatures, left as individ- 
uals, often helpless and suffering, to the benev- 
olence of corrupt nature, instituted a connexion, 
by which a number should be bound in such 
close relation, that an injury offered to one would 
affect the others. Here, the interest or good of 
one is bound up in that of many, and one tide 
of feeling appears to circulate among parents, 
brothers, and sisters, as the current of life flow- 
ing through the heart, circulates to the most re- 
mote member of the body : all compose but one 
frame, which 1 suffers or enjoys with every part. 
In the family relation the feebler members look 
for sustenance to the same provident care, they 



364 EMOTIONS CONNECTED 

obey the same affectionate law emanating from 
the head they call father ; and he feels for those 
whose existence is drawn from his, the same 
equal love. This love prompts to labours un- 
remitting, sometimes beyond his strength, for 
the maintenance and welfare of his offspring. 

And she whom they call mother, from whom 
they have drawn the same stream of life, upon 
whose bosom they have all reposed in gentle 
slumber, how dear is she. What would not 
the affectionate child in the strength of his love 
do for either parent f It is related of a young- 
man called Couchoux, that, during the reign of 
terror in France, being confined, with his aged 
father in a place called the cave of death, await- 
ing with many others the hour of execution, 
very perilous means of escape were offered ; but 
young Couchoux refused to fly unless his father 
who was eighty years of age, and lame, would 
accompany him. " Go, said the old man, I 
command it, but it is impossible for me to go 
with thee." The entreaties of the son pre- 
vailed, and the father dragged his swollen limbs 
a little way and stopped. The son, though low 
of stature, and not strong, took him in his arms, 
the desire of saving his father gave him strength, 
and he carried him to the top of the stairs. His 
affection was rewarded ; they were saved.* 

* Three years residence in France. 



WITH OUR HAPPINESS. 365 

Lucretia Davidson, as much esteemed for 
her genius and virtue as lamented in her early 
death, received, at the age of thirteen, a twenty 
dollar note, from an English gentleman who 
had read some of her poetical pieces. Her 
father, to whom it was enclosed, in giving it to 
her, told her to regard it as the first fruit of her 
poetical merit. Lucretia, in eager simplicity 
took the note, saying, " Oh Papa, how many 
books it will buy." She knew no want but that 
of books. Then casting her eyes to the bed 
where her mother lay sick and suffering, her 
radiant face altered, and she added, " Oh, no, 
no, I cannot spend it ; take it, Papa, I do not 
want it, take it and buy something for Mama."* 
Thus does nature, by the strong emotion of af- 
fection in the child, provide for the necessities 
and helplessness of age in the parent. 

But no human affection can compare with 
that of the mother. The brute is fond and even 
fierce in her love, but when her offspring no 
longer need her care, this love so entirely ceases 
that she even knows them no longer. Not so 
with Woman. The little one nourished in her 
bosom has an existence immortal as her own, 
and while the vital fluid circulates in her heart, 
her care and love for it never ceases. Over the 
infant couch her cheek gathers paleness : cease- 

* Sparks' American Biography. 



366 EMOTIONS CONNECTED 

less are her watchings, lest even the " winds of 
heaven should visit too roughly" the form she 
loves so well. In its sickness, her delicate frame 
nerves itself with more than masculine strength ; 
and when her child is in danger* she is a very- 
heroine. At the siege of Ancona, during the 
horrible sufferings of the inhabitants from fam- 
ine, a woman, heart-broken by the exhaustion 
of her two sons, opened a vein in her arm, and 
having prepared and disguised the blood that 
flowed from it with the spices that remained in 
abundance in the city, she set this beverage 
before her children ; thus prolonging their 
existence by the current that supported her 
own.* 

Is it not in the strong, undying emotions of 
the mother's heart that God has provided for 
the life of helpless infancy, for the instruction 
of inexperienced youth, for the restraint of im- 
passioned manhood ? may it not be said, for the 
salvation of the immortal spirit ? Few are so 
disobedient as to resist a mother's injunctions in 
youth, or so abandoned as to contemn her tears 
and pleadings in manhoo'd ; even when her 
voice is hushed in death her own unquenchable 
love finds a response in the bosom of her son. 
In his course of sinful pleasure, the silent hour 
of night brings back the soft reproach upon that 

* Venitian History. 



WITH 0U£ HAPPINESS. 367 

loving, sorrowful face ; he feels again the kiss of 
affection, as in childhood he felt it on his cheek, 
and upon his brow the gentle hand that rested 
there, when his infant prayer ascended at his 
mother's knee. Now, does the Holy Spirit strive 
with the soul that has so long been given to sin, 
and the prayer of a mother descends with bles- 
sings upon his head. 

Wonderful nature is ours ! No less fitted by 
the intellect for the attainment and use of all 
necessary knowledge, but by our emotions for 
all the joys that mind is capable of containing ; 
eminently qualified to enjoy all the pleasures 
that our connection with material objects and 
with beings like ourselves can give, yet strange 
to say, " man never is, but always to be blest." 
All press onward to some good yet unenjoyed ; 
seek some mine of knowledge which intellect 
has as yet left unexplored ; some invention that 
will add value to human existence. Thus, into 
the future, with the glass of imagination, does 
the mind delight to look ; tracing its own des- 
tiny, and weaving a circlet of future glory, with 
which to crown the efforts of future labours. 
This anticipation, this hope of something yet 
to come, independent of the joys it procures, is 
the stimulus that gives activity to thought, as 
well as to feeling. This reaching to something 
beyond, keeps the mind in action, that without 



368 EMOTIONS CONTINUED. 

such a perspective might sink into the indolence 
ever produced by satiety. 

Hope when confined to this life often ends in 
disappointment, and joy in bitter sorrow. The 
inquietude, the dissatisfaction we experience in 
present enjoyment, and the inextinguishable 
thirst for other joys, show a nature not intended 
wholly for the present existence ; the hope that 
ever reaches to something beyond, proves its 
high origin, and immortal destiny. But even 
here, there is a joy upon which the soul may 
quietly rest in hope of better things, it is the 
joy of salvation. May this joy, which fully sat- 
isfies all the powers of the soul, being all that 
the imagination can conceive of bliss, and in 
perfect accordance with our rational, social and 
moral nature, be ours. Thus fastening our 
hopes upon the skies, 

" We bid earth roll, oor feel the idle whirl." 



CHAPTER IV. 



EMOTIONS CONTINUED. 



As our subject has already extended beyond 
the prescribed limits, I shall, my young friends, 
be constrained to take a rapid glance at the re- 
maining topics, as we proceed to the conclusion. 
Let us now consider the emotions caused by the 



EMOTIONS CONTINUED. 369 

deeper exercise of the imagination, as well as 
of the other intellectual powers ; more espe- 
cially those called the moral sublime. 

As the imagination is capable of perceiving 
the beautiful and delicate qualities in objects, 
and thus extracts happiness from the flower of 
the field, the hues of heaven, the song of the 
bird ; so also does it perceive the greatness and 
magnificence of creation, and finds in the im- 
mensity of space, filled with myriads of worlds, 
a source of wonder that overwhelms the mind 
with awe. The element that encircles our 
globe, the swiftness of motion, the dreadful 
volcano, and the more terrific thunder-bolt, mark 
a Hand Omnipotent. There are doubtless mo- 
ments when the most sceptical mind is deeply 
affected with fear of some Great Power, and is 
ready to build an altar to the Unknown God ; 
while the Christian can lift a smiling eye to the 
tempest, and feel it disarmed of terror by a 
Father's love. 

The emotion caused by the combined opera- 
tion of the intellectual powers is also most in- 
teresting ; this, in its highest exercise maybe 
called Genius. Who is not sensible of the de- 
lights or miseries attendant on the remembrance 
of pleasing or painful events, and in the exer- 
cise of the powers of association and imagina- 
tion, so connects the present with the past, as to 
24 



370 EMOTIONS CONTINUED. 

suffer again some by-gone sorrow with inten- 
sity almost beyond endurance, or enjoys some 
anticipated good with a delight far beyond that 
found in the reality of its possession ? 

From the shore of his exile, the homeless 
wanderer glances to the dear abode of youth. 
His mother in the tenderness of her love, his 
father in the manliness of his affection, sisters, 
fond and gentle, brothers, companions of his in- 
fantile sports and youthful employments, rise 
before him. Tears flow from his eyes, and 
uncontrolable desires to see and once more em- 
brace these dear ones, take possession of his 
soul. Association now comes in to stir up the 
deeper feelings of the heart. These remem- 
brances are so made up of images connected 
with home and friends ; the endearing inter- 
course of the family circle, the sweet strains of 
the evening hymn, and the parental prayer, 
that they swell the bosom of the exile almost to 
bursting. 

The objects of imagination become realities 
to the mind, and hence the pleasure derived from 
fiction. A lady observed upon reading Stew- 
art's Journal to the Sandwich Islands, that her 
acquaintance with the sailors became so inti- 
mate that at the arrival of the ship she could 
not part with them. In the writer of fiction the 
emotion is still more powerful. The creation 



EMOTIONS CONTINUED. 371 

of his imagination is the world in which he lives ; 
peopled with beings whom he admires, loves, 
and pities ; over whose crimes he often casts a 
mantle of ideal virtue, presenting to his readers 
" the poison of Circe in a crystal goblet." Such 
authors often depict the virtue they do not feel, 
and while they live in defiance of all the laws 
of humanity, they eloquently paint, and in ima- 
gination pity, the sufferings they themselves oc- 
casion. Sterne, who knew so well how to touch 
the feelings with his pen, gained the affection of 
a lady and deserted her. His perfidy so affected 
her that she lost her reason, and was confined 
to a mad-house. Sterne, without accusing him- 
self, wrote an effecting picture of the madness 
he had occasioned. The poet, and even the phi- 
losopher, who has the art of clothing his thoughts 
with beauty, and can give to his sophistry the 
appearance of truth, making good evil, and evil 
good, works himself into the feelings, and car- 
ries away, through the strength of emotion, mul- 
titudes, who follow because some master spirit 
leads them. " The error that emanates from 
minds of high order, penetrates even to the lowly 
cottage, and like the gales of the south, laden 
with perfume, breathes pestilence and death." 

Let us now turn to that enthusiasm which in- 
spires minds of high order to daring, and even per- 
ilous enterprises. Originating in reason which 



372 EMOTIONS CONTINUED. 

gives the perception of some important truth, it 
carries all the powers of thought to one point, 
which in spite of ridicule and opposition it never 
abandons. In due time this truth is established ; 
and great is stamped upon the name of him who 
thus dared to depart from common opinion. It 
was this enthusiasm that inspired Galileo, and 
made him persist in the investigation and asser- 
tion of the laws of nature, in opposition to a corrupt 
philosophy. Obliged to resign his professorship, 
denounced as a heretic and imprisoned in the 
inquisition, because he asserted the true motion 
of the earth, he was forced at length to pro- 
nounce, in the presence of an assembly of monks, 
kneeling upon the Gospels, an abjuration of the 
great truth he had maintained. Rising from 
this posture, and filled with indignation at hav- 
ing been compelled to swear contrary to his 
conviction, he exclaimed, stamping with his 
foot, " Still it moves ;" and went back to the 
dungeon of the inquisition.* Christopher Co- 
lumbus, from the time he conceived the exist- 
ence of a new world, seemed impelled by an 
irresistible desire to go in search of it. No obsta- 
cles cooled his ardour and when rejected by one 
court he applied to another. Thus did he pass 
eighteen years in solicitation, amid poverty, 
neglect and ridicule; and when at length, in the 
* Encyclopedia Americana. 



EMOTIONS CONTINUED. 373 

decline of his life, he obtained two small ves- 
sels, and discovered after a voyage full of dan- 
ger, the laud he sought, can we wonder that he 
should kiss the precious soil and in tears of joy 
return thanks to God. Genius is a nwstery in 
our nature, which we shall probably never un- 
derstand ; it is accompanied by the strong emo- 
tions described in the above cases, it seems the 
gift of the Creator to a few, doubtless intended 
for the benefit of the many. 

This quality of mind prompting to great en- 
terprise, accompanied with decision and perse- 
verance, affects other minds with the emotions 
of admiration and reverence. There is a sub- 
limity in such a character that to some gives the 
impression of inspiration. Hence the empire 
they obtain over others. " Strike," said Them- 
istocles to his rival, whose hand was for this 
purpose raised over the Athenian General, " but 
first hear me." The hostile arm fell powerless 
before the patriot who feared not insult when 
the danger of his country called for his prompt 
advice. Luther in the power of his enemies 
at Augsburg, was asked by the Italian Serra 
Longa, "Forsaken by all, where wilt thou find 
refuge f" " In God," said Luther, lifting an 
eye of faith. The Italian courtier was silent. 
John Hedinguer, chaplain and spiritual guide to 
the reigning Duke of Wirtemberg, was fearless 



374 EMOTIONS CONTINUED. 

in the discharge of his duty, and bold in speaking 
the truth. The Duke had consented, through 
the solicitations of a lady, to set out on a party 
of pleasure one Sunday before divine service. 
His way lay by the church. Herdinguer came 
out at the instant, placed himself directly before 
the prince's equipage, and called to mind his 
culpability both towards God by the profanation 
of the Sabbath, and towards his subjects in so 
pernicious an example. In vain the Duke re- 
garded him with a sombre countenance. Her- 
dinguer remained before the horses, and said, 
" If your highness desires to shed the blood of 
one of his chaplains, he has only to continue his 
ride ; I have no fear of death." The prince, 
conscience-stricken and awed, commanded his 
horses' heads to be turned, and went to church. 
There is a moral grandeur in assuming diffi- 
cult duties with fortitude, especially if painful 
to the feelings, that affects the mind with the 
emotion of sublimity. Of this kind of fortitude 
we find many examples among women. Che- 
lonidis was wife of Cleombrotes, and daughter 
of Leonidus, king of Sparta. For some polit- 
ical reason the king was banished by his sub* 
jects and Cleombrotus placed upon the throne. 
The affectionate daughter leaving her royal 
state, followed her father to his exile. Leon- 
idus being recalled from banishment and rein- 



EMOTIONS CONTINUED. 375 

stated, resolved upon the exile of his son-in- 
law, while his daughter in vain plead at his feet 
for her husband. The king who loved her 
fondly, conjured her to remain with him and 
share the splendours of royalty. But Chelon- 
idis seeing her unfortunate husband about to 
depart, rose from her suppliant posture, and 
placing one of her children in the arms of Cle- 
ombrotus, took the other in her own and went 
with him into voluntary banishment. 

Ptolemy, king of Egypt demanded of Cle- 
omenes the Spartan king, his aged mother as a 
hostage, for the succors he sent to his country. 
Cleomenes concealed the distressing proposal 
from his parent, but she read it in his looks. 
" How, my son," said she, " is this the secret 
you had not courage to disclose . ? Send me I 
pray where my person can yet be of use to 
Sparta." Tenderly embracing her son, who 
wept with excess of anguish at parting, she 
said, " King of Sparta, let us dry up our tears, 
for this is in our power ; events are in the hands 
of God." 

In these instances we see even in heathen, 
the force of reason and the strength of affection 
in the female bosom ; now let us see what faith 
in God can do. Here we have that aged Jew- 
ish mother called to witness the martyrdom of 
seven sons. During their cruel torments she 



376 EMOTIONS CONTINUED. 

exhorted them to remember that their present 
sufferings were short, and future glory eternal. 
How deep was her anxiety lest the youngest 
should shrink back affrighted and fail to give 
glory to the God of his fathers. Having seen 
them all surfer as faithful witnesses for the truth, 
she went joyfully to the death, prepared, last of 
all, for her. See also the undaunted women 
who forsook not their Master in the hour of His 
suffering. They stood at the cross, amid the 
scoffs of an insulting rabble. Doubtless they 
strove by looks of love to impart to Him what 
they could of comfort. They regarded. neither 
the soldier or the priest ; one object — their Di- 
vine and suffering Lord absorbed every feeling ; 
shame and fear, which operated on the minds 
of the disciples, by them were entirely discarded. 
Think not, I pray you, that the exalted Queen, 
esteemed the greatest sovereign that ever sat 
upon the British throne, was great when com- 
pared with the humble Christian. The death- 
bed, that detector of the heart, that test of char- 
acter, found her strong mind sunk into imbe- 
cility ; an earthly sceptre seemed too great a 
prize to yield up at the bidding of the King of 
kings. Like the caged lioness she was re- 
strained by superior force. She resigned not up 
her power, it was wrested away by death.* Not 
* D'Israeli. 



EMOTIONS . CONTINUED. 377 

such the Christian woman under the influence 
of the most exalted emotion of the human mind 
— faith in the. Lord Jesus Christ. By nature 
weak and timorous ; by grace strong and cour- 
ageous. With her eye fixed on the glory be- 
fore which all other glory is dim, she is supe- 
rior to the vanity, the envy and jealousy that 
deform the fairest face : she is calm in the midst 
of trials, which are the more vexatious, because 
of their seeming insignificance. Patience, hu- 
mility, and perseverance in active duty, are 
her adorning virtues ; and in their constant ex- 
ercise, she approaches the dark valley and 
shadow of death, which she fears not, for she 
knows that her Redeemer lives. The last mes- 
senger calls her in the midst of cares and la- 
bours from those who are dear as her own life. 
Friends weep, but the joy that swells angelic 
bosoms has already entered her heart. Her 
labour is ended ; some words of counsel, the 
last embrace, the last prayer, and the song of 
praise begins. 

Truly sublime is the character of the Chris- 
tian Hero. The purest, the most elevated emo- 
tions fill. his soul. What but Divine communion 
could have made Washington the first in war, 
the first in peace, the first in the hearts of his 
countrymen ? In the retired grove and the 
lonely cave he called upon the God who rights 



378 EMOTIONS CONTINUED. 

the cause of the oppressed, to purify the mo- 
tives of his honoured instrument. He sought 
wisdom of the Mighty Counsellor, and the peace 
which passeth understanding, from the Prince 
of peace. And while he offered his blood in 
the salvation of his country, with faith unfeigned 
and piety unobtrusive, he looked for his own 
salvation to the blood which cleanseth from all 
sin. How does the glory of Alexander and of 
Cyrus, of Caesar and of Napoleon, wane in the 
splendour of the halo that encircles our Wash- 
ington ! 

The truly great seek not applause, they seek 
to deserve it ; they look not at the fading hon- 
ours of time j they rest not in the hope of ima- 
ginary distinction here, but by faith they see a 
brighter reward, and with noble ambition aspire 
to the welcome of well done, good and faith- 
ful servant, enter into the joys of your Lord. 
Such are the feelings and hopes of the men, 
who, forsaking the joys of the social home, the 
loving light of a mother's eye, the companion- 
ship of natural ties, go to spread the truth of the 
Gospel and proclaim the joys of salvation, to 
the dark and perishing heathen. Such men 
were Swartz and Martyn ; such are multitudes 
who count not their lives dear unto them that 
they may win souls to Christ. Such men de- 
sire, as said a beloved Missionary, " to recog- 



EMOTIONS CONTINUED. 379 

nize God in every thing even in the events which 
thwart us — to sit alone and keep silent under 
the severest trials — willing to endure all with- 
out society or sympathy, or even notice — to 
suffer undeserved injury without retaliation, and 
censure without justification — to bear all, serve 
all, love all."* Such men live in the exercise 
of the most sublime of all emotions — faith in 
Christ ; of •' such men the world is not worthy." 

* Letter from Rev. David Abeel. 



PART TV. 



CHAPTER 1. 



MORAL SENSE AND CONSCIENCE, 

The intellect has a perception of the beau- 
tiful as well as of the true ; the first belongs to 
the imagination, the second to reason. Here is 
the foundation of Taste. But reason also ex- 
hibits truth out of the reach of sense. Wher- 
ever there is existence it proclaims Cause; and 
further that in the production of minds such as 
ours, there must be an Intelligence infinitely 
surpassing all that we find elevated and glorious 
in humanity. That to this First Great Cause 
is due, not only all the efforts that can be made 
by the human mind, but also all the love of 
which the soul is capable, reason would teach. 
Reason goes no further than the declaration of 
necessary truth, it is the province of feeling to 
embrace and act upon it. There is in the mind 
an inherent love of beauty and other pleasing 
qualities in objects ; there is also an inherent 
love of truth, justice and benevolence. To the 
perception and love of the beautiful is addressed 



3S2 MORAL SENSE AND CONSCIENCE. 

whatever belongs to the works of taste — poetry, 
eloquence, painting and the other fine arts ; to 
the approbation of virtue is addressed whatever 
belongs to duty or moral science. The mind 
turns with a sort of repugnance from the false, 
unjust and cruel person, while the contrary c lar- 
acter is esteemed and beloved. 

In all ages and among all nations, this has 
been the general sentiment of mankind, except 
where men have become brutalized by the ani- 
mal propensities, or cruel through the prejudices 
of false judgment and custom. It is related of 
Xenocrates, the philosopher, that being called 
to give testimony in a court of Athens, he ad- 
vanced to the altar to confirm it by the custom- 
ary oath. The judges blushed, and with one 
accord opposed the action, thus rendering hom- 
age to the probity of so respectable a witness. 
Themistocles proposed to the Athenians to com- 
municate to some chosen person, a design, but 
with profound secrecy, that would be to the ad- 
vantage of the nation. Aristides, the most 
equitable of the citizens was deputed to hear it. 
The design was to burn the fleet of the Lace- 
demonians, their rival neighbours, then at peace 
with them. "Nothing," said Aristides, to the 
Athenians, after hearing the proposition, "could 
be more advantageous to us, but nothing can be 
more unjust." Without any other information, 






MORAL SENSE AND CONSCIENCE. 383 

the people unanimously rejected the proposal. 
This is the moral sense of man, founded in his 
reason, and belongs in a greater or less degree 
to every rational creature. Man as a social and 
moral being, must be provided with a sense, 
whereby he may discover the duties to be per- 
formed in these relations. We cannot at pre- 
sent carry out these illustrations, and even hope 
it to be unnecessary, notwithstanding the rea- 
sonings that may pre-occupy any of your minds, 
founded upon the case imagined by Dr. Paley, 
of the wild boy, who would not be able to de- 
cide whether the murder of a father was a right 
or a wrong action. You will see also, that this 
same wild boy, were he taken to the exhibition 
of West's Christ Rejected, would be unable to 
judge whether it were well or ill done. Be- 
sides, where nations or even individuals " change 
the truth of God into a lie, and worship and 
serve the creature more than the Creator," they 
are given up to " vile affections," and become 
" haters of God, disobedient to parents, without 
understanding, covenant breakers, without nat- 
ural affection, implacable, unmerciful." Hence, 
the reason found in Revelation, why whole na- 
tions seem destitute of moral sense ; this reason 
is probably nearer the truth in the case of indi- 
viduals remarkable for crime, than a deficiency 
in the organ of Conscientiousness. 



384 MORAL SENSE AND CONSCIENCE. 

In the Word of Revelation we have man de- 
picted as he came from the hands of his 1 Crea- 
tor ; we discern the original faculties of mind 
in the perfection of his nature, and view him 
as the deforming influence of sin defaces and 
blackens the fair soul that was formed in the 
image of the Infinitely Hofy. " And God said, 
Let us make man after our image, in our like- 
ness, and let them have dominion." Gen. 1. 26. 
In what did this likeness to God consist? In 
the first place, in Reason, whereby man might 
know and understand his relations to God, 
and might acquire the knowledge that would 
give him dominion or power, not only over all 
other creatures upon the earth, but would en- 
able him to turn to his advantage every part of 
the creation. In the second place, in Love, 
whereby he looked with approbation upon the 
works of his Creator, who had pronounced them 
good, and adoring the wisdom and goodness of 
the Almighty Father, he joyfully received the 
companion given to participate in his happiness. 
His reason taught him that the prohibition, 
" Thou shall not eat of it," was right in the 
Sovereign of all things ; his love to the Father 
of his being, gave him perfect acquiescence in 
His will which he saw was good. Reason and 
love seem to be the foundation of our moral 
nature. Man in his sinless state must have been 



MORAL SENSE AND CONSCIENCE. 385 

ignorant of evil, its knowledge was forbidden ; 
this was his innocence. The prohibition to ac- 
quire this knowledge was before him, it was ad- 
dressed to some power of his mind that could 
understand and feel it ; this was his sense and 
love of right. When our first Parents fell under 
the temptation offered to their sensual nature, 
their eyes were opened, and they were covered 
with shame. What was this perception, here 
mentioned as the opening of the eyes ? It was 
the moral sense that showed to them their guilt, 
in disobeying the Divine command ; they knew 
evil, — innocence was gone. But when the voice 
of the Lord God was heard in the garden, the con- 
sciousness of sin caused them to hide themselves ; 
they were afraid. Here Conscience, in view of 
the penalty pronounced against the act of diso- 
bedience, commenced its terrible operations and 
filled them with remorse. 

It is important to make a distinction between 
the terms, moral sense and conscience. Moral 
sense, as has just been explained, is the inhe- 
rent love or approbation of what is right, the 
disapprobation of what is wrong. It looks at 
moral truth in the abstract, it approves of truth, 
justice and benevolence in the character of 
God ; and is founded in reason which teaches 
that truth, justice and benevolence must be 

eternally right. Reason declares this a neces- 
25 



386 MORAL SENSE AND CONSCIENCE. 

sary truth ; moral feeling delights in it, not only 
because it is right and beautiful, but because in 
the exercise of virtue alone, can rational, moral 
beings enjoy communion with each other ; it is 
the foundation of rational and social happiness. 
Conscience takes its rise in our moral nature ; 
it is the lamp in the bosom, whereby each indi- 
vidual discovers his own aberrations from duty. 
No man by his conscience judges of his neigh- 
bour, any more than by his consciousness he 
tells what are the thoughts and feelings that 
pass through the mind of another. 

Consciousness is the perception the mind has 
of its own operations, and is not at all concerned 
in the operations or feelings of other minds. It 
is the internal testimony of the intelligence, and 
assures the rational being that he has within, a 
a thinking, feeling, active principle — the soul, 
connected with the external world. The act- 
ings of Conscience are analogous ; every one 
has a conscience for himself, which takes no 
cognizance of the actions or motives of any 
other ; it is the internal testimony of his moral 
nature, and shows to the rational soul its ac- 
countability, thus assuring it of a state of exist- 
ence beyond the present. That we have a 
moral nature we cannot doubt, that we do not act 
in conformity with its dictates we must allow ; 
we approve the right and do the wrong. Even 



MORAL SENSE AND CONSCIENCE. 387 

when we feel within us a disposition to do jus- 
tice and love mercy, there is a voice that cries, 
" dost thou walk humbly with thy God ?" The 
young man who enquired of our Saviour "What 
he must do to inherit eternal life ?" declared that 
he kept all the commandments, still he was sen- 
sible that something was wanting to give accep- 
tance with God. This has been the conviction 
of the human mind in all a^es. The sacrifices 
offered to the Deity by all the nations of the 
earth, not only upon Jewish altars by the Divine 
command, but to idols of every name and char- 
acter, prove a sense of guilt that nothing but blood 
can wash away. It is Conscience that cries "what 
hast thou done ?" This cry is heard in the soul, 
not indeed at all times, for conscience, like every 
other power of the mind, is liable to perversion; 
it may be silenced by the passions, or prejudiced 
by the "understanding that judges according to 
sense." So that though the Scripture declares 
" that every imagination of the thoughts of man's 
heart was only evil continually," yet there are 
not wanting those who assert the contrary, who 
" through an evil heart of unbelief," depart from 
this testimony of " the living God." 

But conscience rarely permits even the phi- 
losopher, who by all the reasonings that the 
corrupt intellect can frame to confirm his infi- 
delity, to descend to the grave in quiet. Vol- 



388 MORAL SENSE AND CONSCIENCE. 

taire, and Hume, and many great in name, were 
in their last hours disturbed by its upbraidings. 
The Earl of Rochester, whose moral reason 
was so far awakened as to cause him to acknow- 
ledge, " that he saw vice and impiety were as 
contrary to human society as wild beasts let 
loose would be," and therefore declared that he 
would change the whole course of his life, al- 
though he had not arrived at a belief in Chris- 
tianity. But, when in reality, he felt the hand of 
God upon him in the extremity of bodily anguish, 
his conscience was aroused like a lion and the 
agonies of his mind sometimes swallowed up 
the sense of what he felt in his body. " He 
told me, says Bishop Burnet, to tell it to one 
for whom he was greatly concerned, that though 
there was nothing to come after this life, yet all 
the pleasures he had ever known in sin, were 
not worth the torture he had felt in his mind." 
Charles IX., who occasioned the massacre of so 
many Protestants in France, died miserably. 
Two days before his death he said to his nurse, 
" Ah my dear nurse, what blood, what murders. 
Oh, my God, pardon me and be merciful. What 
shall I do ? I am lost forever, I know it."* 

The superstitious observances of the heathen, 
as well as of those who profess a corrupt Chris- 
tianity, even the works supposed meritorious by 

• Curiosities of Lit. 



MORAL SENSE AND CONSCIENCE. 389 

those who hold the truth in unrighteousness, 
are all the effect of conscience, illy directed. 
In such, the conscience is influenced by the 
prejudices of education, by an erratic invagina- 
tion, or by an evil heart of unbelief; and the 
difficulty of rectifying such errors is the greater, 
on account of the strength of the attending emo- 
tions. When the mind becomes fully impressed, 
through parental authority, or its own fancies 
and reasonings, that either eternal salvation, or 
higher favour with God — that is, increased 
holiness, depend upon any particular duties or 
observances, nothing can deter from the perform- 
ance of what is deemed essential to such an 
end. This is in accordance with reason ; for 
indeed what should not a man give, or do for 
a release from everlasting pain, or to secure the 
favour of the Almighty ? The aged Hindoo 
desires to die on the banks of the Ganges, bathed 
in the waters which he supposes will wash away 
sin ; the mother casts her helpless offspring into 
the same sacred flood to propitiate the deity. 
The widow ascends the burning pile, lighted by 
her son, to consume her living bodv, together 
with that of her dead husband, that they may 
ascend to the same heaven, whicB cannot be 
theirs without some extraordinary sacrifice. 
Even the atheistical Boodhist expects another 
existence of happiness, provided he is suffi- 



390 MORAL SENSE AND CONSCIENCE. 

ciently meritorious. Among works of the high- 
est merit, he esteems the feeding a hungry, in- 
firm tiger, with his own flesh.* 

To the alarmed conscience, God is indeed a 
consuming fire, and so fearful is the imagination 
of His wrath, that no suffering seems too great 
to purchase His mercy. Those, who rest their 
hope of it upon their own performances, will 
go through an endless and tiresome routine of 
daily services ; the omission of a single form 
brings its penance, perhaps of severe privation 
or of bodily suffering. Or, if better taught, 
they are exact in the duties of morality, expen- 
sive in their charities, warm in their zeal. Thus, 
it may be, with quieted consciences, they give 
God thanks that they are better than others, and 
possibly, in the exultation of self-complacency, 
they think to do Him service by harsh censures, 
or even by persecution. 

"But, treacherous Conscience, while she seems to sleep 
On rose or myrtle, lull'd with syren song ; 
Listening, o'erhears the whisperers of our camp. 
Our dawning purposes of heart explores, 
Writes our whole history, which Death shall read." 

Philip of Spain, so zealous, as he imagined, 
for the Church, on his death-bed sent for his 
confessor and said to him, " Father confessor, 
as you occupy the place of God, I protest to 
you that I will do every thing you shall say to 

* Ency. of Religious Knowledge. 



MORAL SENSE AND CONSCIENCE. 391 

be necessary to my salvation, so that what I 
omit doing, will be placed to your account, as I 
am ready to acquit myself of all that shall be 
ordered to me."* 

The torments of an alarmed conscience, at 
such an hour, must be inconceivably dreadful. 
Whatever can bring to it well founded and cer- 
tain peace, would occasion to the possessor 
greater joy than all the treasures of the globe, 
and all the pleasures and honours they could 
purchase, laid at his feet. Mr. Swartz, the 
missionary, relates, that a certain man on the 
Malabar coast, enquired of the priests how he 
could make atonement ? They directed him to 
drive iron spikes, blunted, through his sandals, 
to place upon them his naked feet, and walk 
about four hundred and eighty miles. He un- 
dertook this journey, and while he halted to rest 
under a shady tree, one of the missionaries came 
and preached in his hearing, from these words ; 
" The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all 
sin." While he was preaching, the man rose 
up, threw off his torturing sandals and cried 
aloud, " This is what I want," and became a 
witness of the truth of that passage.* This 
blood it is, which cleanses from all sin, and this 
alone can make the wounded conscience whole. 
Neither the annals of Paganism, or the records 

* Encyclopedia of Religious Knowledge. 



392 MORAL SENSE AND CONSCIENCE. 

of the Philosophy that depends upon reason 
alone, can point to such a remedy. Socrates, 
who, of all the Heathen philosophers, seemed 
to live most in accordance with the dictates of 
reason and natural conscience, professed to be 
guided by a divine impulse, w T hich prevented 
his acting when he would go wrong. But So- 
crates, though he spoke to his followers of the 
necessity of prudence and virtue, and set before 
them immortal rewards if they cultivated these 
with attention, yet he pointed them not to the 
Spirit of Truth for their guide, nor opened a 
way of deliverance from guilt. He speaks of 
persons being purified by philosophy, and if not 
entirely innocent, of being sent to a place after 
death, there to expiate their faults by propor- 
tioned punishment. Miserable comfort is this 
in death! Still this belief, aided probably by 
the pride of dying in conformity with what 
he had taught his friends, and professed before 
his enemies, sustained this great man in that 
trying hour. But on the point of rendering up 
his soul, he recollected a vow he had made to 
the god iEsculapius, and uncovering his face, 
he prayed his friend Crito, to offer the sacrifice 
without fail. 

Philosophy, whether ancient or modern, can 
offer no solid consolation to the conscience, pol- 
luted by sin. Who would dare to make the 



MORAL SENSE AND CONSCIENCE. 393 

proud appeal that Epictetus desired to make as 
his last prayer? u O Lord, have I violated 
Thy commands ! Have I abused the gifts Thou 
hast conferred upon me ? Have I not submit- 
ted my senses, wishes and opinions to Thee ? 
Hast Thou ever surprised me murmuring and 
dejected ?" Scarce any one, though he might 
live in such sentiments, would choose to close 
his eyes in death with such an address to the 
Almighty, hoping, on such grounds, for accep- 
tance. Perhaps not another member of the 
human family, would, with Rousseau, write the 
confessions of a life, dishonoured and infamous, 
and declare that this document was intended to 
be presented to the Eternal Judge as his justifica- 
tion.* The enlightened and humble conscience, 
has, in all ages, said to God, " behold I am vile, 
mine eye seeth Thee, wherefore I abhor myself 
in dust and ashes." Happy those, who through 
Christ Jesus, freed from the law of sin and 
death, with Paul can exclaim ; " Who is he 
that condemneth ? it is Christ that died," " it 
is God that justifieth ;" " it is the Spirit that 
helpeth our infirmities." " We are more than 
conquerors through Him who loved us." 
♦NoteR. 



394 MORAL RESPONSIBILITY. 

CHAPTER II. 

MORAL RESPONSIBILITY. 

In a review of the subject now before us, we 
find in our mental constitution faculties for the 
acquisition of knowledge, and ability for such 
a use of it, as would render man, even on earth, 
akin to angelic nature. Let us now look upon 
the world within us, by consciousness, and ex- 
amine the world without, and we shall perceive 
in the human soul the ruins of an exquisite piece 
of workmanship. This is visible in all the in- 
tellectual operations, and still more in the feel- 
ings and emotions of the heart. 

The senses present innumerable objects that 
address themselves to the understanding and to 
the feelings, but how does it happen that we 
most frequently disregard those that are useful 
and good, while we are attracted to those whidh 
are hurtful ? Why instead of nourishing our- 
selves with proper food, do we pamper the ap- 
petites and do injury to the body — the organ 
which God has provided for the immortal spirit, 
so as to impede its operations, and sink the un- 
derstanding: below the instinct of the mere ani- 
mal, or else work, through intemperance, the 
feelings up to the wickedness of demoniac rage ? 
Why in our perception and love of the beautiful 
do we so attach ourselves to certain objects, as 



MORAL RESPONSIBILITY. 395 

to forget that there are higher delights than those 
of earth ? Why so carried away by imagina- 
tion as to forget the sober duties of life ; even 
extracting poison from its sweets, presenting the 
intoxicating draught, or bitter chalice, to those 
that should be cherished in the bosom ? Why 
seeing ourselves connected with others, not only 
in the intimate relation of family, but also par- 
ticipants of the same Providential allotments ; 
enjoying equally the light and the dews of hea- 
ven, resembling each other in form and intellect ; 
partakers of like joys, like sorrows ; alike fee- 
ble, suffering, and subject to death. W r hy sen- 
sible of all this, do we not feel, at all times, the 
heart warm with love to those who so nearly 
resemble ourselves, who are of the same flesh, 
the same spirit, and under the same natural 
government ? 

Look abroad, and see the dissensions that 
reign in households ; what jealousy, envy, an- 
ger, hatred, even revenge among brothers ; how 
much more among neighbours; between nations 
how much blood is spilled through these unholy 
passions, and ambition still more unholy. Even 
when the passions do not thus flame out in fury, 
we find that mankind delight to pour contempt 
upon each other. They defame whole nations, 
they slander their neighbours, they speak evil 
of those who occupy exalted stations, and over- 



396 MORAL RESPONSIBILITY. 

whelm those who through misfortune are sunk 
below them. Men will have what they call their 
own rights, should humanity weep tears of blood 
at their ket. The heart sickens at the contem- 
plation of such disorders, and we perhaps seek 
consolation in the thought that we find ourselves 
free from these debasing passions. But let us 
examine. Do we, in every instance, "esteem- 
ing others better than ourselves," prefer, when 
competition takes place, the good of our neigh- 
bour to our own ? or do we not sometimes seek 
our own interest at the expense of our neigh- 
bour ? When we hear him complain of misfor- 
tune, of pain or of grief, do we not, in thought, 
immediately revert to our own trials, and instead 
of relieving his heart by sympathy, selfishly pour 
upon him our complaints, with the feeling that 
we are the greater sufferers ? Does not the cheek 
sometimes grow pale and the lip curl in scorn 
when deserved praise is given to a rival, and 
does not the eye sparkle with pleasure when 
some tale to his disparagement is told ? Our 
moral nature revolts at such conduct in others, 
and the consciousness of such feelings in our- 
selves brings a blush of shame upon the cheek ; 
yet we listen not to such prompting, but excuse 
ourselves with the plea, that we cannot help it ; 
that so we are born ; that it is the nature given 
us by our Creator. Experience indeed teaches 



MORAL RESPONSIBILITY. 397 

that thus we are born, but Reason contradicts 
the assertion, that a Just and Good God thus 
created us. Conscience loudly proclaims that 
the sin is our own, and that, at some time, it 
will meet its just and terrible punishment. Still 
we go on, and on ; we choose the evil and reject 
the good. And why 1 are we impelled to evil 
by irresistible impulse % Some are of this opin- 
ion : but you, my young friends, are unwilling 
to think yourselves mere machines, moved by 
a power without which you cannot resist ; still 
you possibly believe, that } r our desires and af- 
fections leading you to certain indulgences, and 
to conduct which you disapprove, are a power 
within, over which you have no control. But 
is this true 1 

I desire to move my position and I do not, 
because the motion occasions pain, and I will 
not. Here desire and will, are opposed and 
will prevails. A man desires money, but does 
not obtain it because the attainment would in- 
volve his honesty; he will not have it by unfair 
means, though it might purchase comfort for his 
family and pleasures for himself. The affections 
indeed are not under the control of the will, but 
are we on this account excusable for loving what 
is wrong, and hating what is right ? Would a 
man be cleared at a tribunal of justice who de- 
clared that his hatred of a person was so strong 



398 MORAL RESPONSIBILITY. 

that he could not forbear taking his life ? Or 
would that son be considered justifiable who 
should declare that he disliked his mother so 
much that he would give her no support in her old 
age ? This would be unnatural, and monstrous. 
If a person had conferred a benefit upon another, 
and should receive the confession, I have tried 
to love you and feel gratitude but cannot ; would 
not every one cry out against the unnatural 
creature 1 A desire to love or to be grateful, is 
not the same as loving or being grateful ; of such 
a person we should say, he has no right sensi- 
bilities or feelings, but this would be no excuse. 
Our evil propensities show a depraved nature, 
but they are no excuse for our evil actions ; they 
show, that although we hold a most exalted rank 
in creation, and are favoured with the innume- 
rable blessings of Providence, yet that we are 
in a most deplorable condition. We not only 
do wrong, but love to do wrong, while our moral 
nature approves, and prompts us to the right. 
We feel that we will not, and declare that we 
cannot do, what we acknowledge we ought to do. 
These facts should affect every rational mind, 
and induce to the consideration of what may be 
the consequences of dying in this state. 

We are all aware that if we wish to turn the 
attention to an object or subject we can do so, 
even though it be disagreeable ; many a boy has 



MORAL RESPONSIBILITY. 399 

Learned a hard lesson when he desired greatly 
to be at play, because it was required of him, 
and probably he received his reward by being 
enabled, in time, to love what at first was so re- 
pugnant to his feelings. When a child diso- 
beys his parents, through strong desire to do 
wrong, he expects, and will receive, if his father 
be not criminally indulgent, the chastisement 
due to his fault. If a man through the desire 
of gain, or because he is poor, takes another's 
purse, the civil law will come upon him with 
retribution, and every one expects it, no one 
excuses him because of his desire, or even his 
need ; the plea that he could not help it would 
not be heard : to say that he was thievish by 
nature would draw upon him contempt, and to 
urge that he was impelled to it by irresistible 
destiny, would be met with the ridicule, that if 
it w r as his destiny to be a thief, so is it his des- 
tiny to be imprisoned and punished with thieves. 
If persons in the season of youth wilfully neg- 
lect instruction, they are not so much pitied as 
blamed for their ignorance ; so if a man through 
indolence or love of expense lets his affairs fall 
into ruin, especially if others are involved with 
him, he is blamed for his carelessness and waste- 
fulness ; and he stands also self-condemned. 
The person who has committed a murder, knows 
that he shall justly suffer death, he blames not 



400 MORAL RESPONSIBILITY. 

the laws of his country : his conscience accuses 
him of wilfully depriving a fellow-creature of life, 
though he might have been prompted by passion. 
Thus every thing within and without us shows 
our free agency as far as attention to duty, and 
resistance of evil is concerned, and proclaims 
our moral responsibility. If we are thus con- 
demned and punished by the civil law, by the 
laws of society, and by the law we carry within 
us — the law of conscience — what must we not 
expect from the law of the Righteous Judge ] It 
is possible, my dear young friends, that some of 
you may take a sort of comfort in the thought 
that you have no power over the inclinations and 
affections of your souls, and so go on in the grati- 
fications of sense ; and while you thus display 
your love for sin, you show a fearful alienation 
from God, in the reproachful thought which rises 
within your minds, "why doth He yet find fault 1 
for who hath resisted His will." It is indeed 
dreadful thus to set yourselves up as a mark for 
Almighty vengeance. True it is, "that the whole 
head is sick, and the whole heart faint," and that 
"there is no soundness in us." True it is, that 
no power but Almighty, can overcome the des- 
perate obstinacy of the human will, which seems 
in this most irrational aberration of the intellect, 
and entire absence of all right, spiritual affec- 
tions, even to rejoice in its opposition to the 



MORAL RESPONSIBILITY. 401 

Creator and Father of the immortal spirit. But 
slight not the mercy that expostulates in such 
tender terms, "Come now, and let us reason 
together, though your sins be as scarlet, they 
shall be white as snow." Lord Byron in the 
latter part of his life expressed to a pious ac- 
quaintance a desire to be a Christian, saying 
there was no joy on earth. He acknowledged 
that he read the Bible, but had not got so far as 
to pray. He could not pray because he still de- 
lighted in sin and would not. "Ye will not come 
to me that ye may have life," said the Redeemer. 
The case of Byron, who wished for insanity to 
quell memory, affords a remarkable illustration 
of the truths contained in the first Chapter of Prov- 
erbs, which is worthy your most careful perusal. 
Lord Rochester, the conclusion of whose his- 
tory we recur to with satisfaction, said, while 
still in his state of rebellion against God, "If a 
man says he cannot believe, what help is there ? 
for he is not master of his own belief." But 
when he looked upon himself as in danger of 
condemnation, "he set himself to turn to God un- 
feignedly, and to do all that was possible in the 
little remainder of life which was before him. to 
redeem those great portions of it that he had for- 
merly so illy employed." Observe the difference 
between these two noblemen. They were both 

men of gifted minds and stood high in the literary 
26 



402 MORAL RESPONSIBILITY. 

and gay world. They were both profligate and 
both cut down in the meridian of life. The sun 
of Byron set in darkness : Rochester declared 
that -he hoped to obtain mercy through his cru- 
cified Redeemer. " He made me, said Bishop 
Burnet, pray often with him ; under all his pain 
he did not repiue, but said " God's will be done." 
He died quietly and breathed out his soul in 
prayer. 

This history, my friends, needs no comment. 
You confess that you are prone to evil, that you 
often resolve to overcome your unholy disposi- 
tions and habits, but before you are aware you 
fall again into the same errors ; you labour in 
the pride of your own strength, which is per- 
fect weakness. You set yourselves to reflect upon 
your condition, but cannot keep your attention 
fixed on any spiritual subject; and it may be that 
sometimes you cry, O wretched creature, who 
shall deliver me ? There is but One Deliverer, 
and " He is nigh to all who call upon him in truth." 
You have destroyed yourselves, but in Him is 
your help. Seek Him now, in youth, when He 
graciously invites you to remember your Crea- 
tor. Seek Him, for soon the days of evil — sor- 
row, sickness, and death will come. Be assured 
that now is the accepted time and day of salva- 
tion. He who formed man in His own image 
and breathed in him a living soul, which by sin 



MORAL RESPONSIBILITY. 403 

has become defaced, polluted, and subject to 
eternal death, can, and will recreate it in the 
likeness of the Divine Redeemer, bestow upon 
it that purity which shall fit it to " see God," 
and give to it, Eternal Life. 



CONCLUSION. 



My Young Friends: — In arranging these Lec- 
tures for the press, I have been induced to omit the 
last Chapter containing the application of the Prin- 
ciples of Mental Philosophy to Habits and Character. 
This offers too wide a field for instruction, to be com- 
prised in such a limit. Should these Lectures prove 
acceptable, I contemplate at some future period to 
continue the subject ; thus renewing an intercourse, 
which, to me, has been most pleasant. That what I 
now offer, may be both agreeable and profitable to 
you, is the desire of your Friend and Instructor. 



NOTES. 



Note A. Combe, one of the most approved and 
popular writers on Phrenology says, "I do not mean 
to insinuate that any of the tendencies bestowed on man 
are essentially bad in themselves. Destructiveness and 
Acquisitiveness, for example, are, when properly 
directed, unquestionably good, but they become the 
sources of evil when their organs are too large in pro- 
portion to those of the moral sentiments and intellect. 
Xnbad qualities, therefore, I always mean either disease, 
or unfavourable proportions among the different or- 
gans." — Constitution of Man. Note on Chap. 3, Sec, 3. 

According to this theory, vice is nothing but an un- 
favourable proportion among the organs. Should 
these principles be adopted for truth, they must un- 
doubtedly weaken our belief in Revelation. In the 
Bible we are taught that bad qualities or sinful pro- 
pensities, originate in the fall of man from the state of 
rectitude in which he was created. By this he lost 
the image of God, or love of holiness. Nothing is 
said of the increase of any bodily organ as a conse- 
quence of this. And when, as it is related, the mur- 
derous propensity of Cain was developed, no excuse 
was made on account of " disease or of any unfavor- 
able proportions among the different organs," but "if 
thou doest not well, sin lieth at the door," was the 
declaration of his Creator. 

Is it not dangerous to admit any theory or any work 
on science in our schools and seminaries of learning, 
that has a tendency to weaken in the youthful mind, 
a belief in any of the great doctrines contained in the 
Scriptures of Truth 1 I pray Teachers most care- 
fully to consider this question. 

Note B. Man, although not yet lord of the visible 
universe as an adult, is lord of it as an heir, and exer- 
cises the authority becoming the minority of one, for 
whom vast possessions are in reserve. Man we be- 
lieve to be immortal, Revelation apart, not because 
his mind is separable from animal organization, but 



NOTES. 405 

because his intellectual and moral constitution is such 
as to demand a future develop ement of his nature. — 
Physical Theory of a future Life, pages 243, 273. 

Note C. — Causation — Cousin. "Not only is 
there in the human mind the idea of cause ; not only 
do we believe ourselves to be the causes of our own 
acts, and that certain bodies are often the cause of the 
movement of other bodies ; but we judge in a gen- 
eral manner that no phenomenon can begin to exist ; 
whether in space or in time, without having a cause." 
Cousin further says, that without this principle in the 
mind — causality, furnished by reason, we should 
never obtain a knowledge of the external world, for 
the senses alone would not give it. — Elements of Psy- 
chology, Chap. 4. Translated by Dr. Henry. 

Note D. Cousin's Psychology, page 112. — " I 
suppose if you did not think and were not conscious 
of thinking, you would not know that you existed. 
Reflect whether in the absence of all thought, all con- 
sciousness, you could have any idea of your own ex- 
istence, and consequently of your existence as one 
and the same 1 On the other hand can you have the 
consciousness of a single operation of your mind, 
without instantly having an irresistible conviction of 
your existence % You cannot. In every act of con- 
sciousness there is the consciousness of some opera- 
tion, some phenomenon, some thought, volition or 
sensation ; and at the same time the conception of our 
existence. And when memory, following conscious- 
ness comes into exercise, the phenomena which just 
before were under the eye of consciousness, fall under 
that of memory, with this implicit conviction, that the 
same being, the same / myself, who was the subject 
of the phenomena of which I was conscious, still ex- 
ists, and is the same whom my memory recalls to me. 
And you are carefully to observe that the sole, direct 
objects of memory and of consciousness are phenomena 
present and past, but at the same time, consciousness and 
memory never take cognizance of these phenomena 
without the reason suggesting to me the irresistible con- 
viction of my personal existence, one and identical." 



406 NOTES. 

Note E. — Physical Theory op a future Life. 

The five senses we have said, may be regarded as 
limiting the percipient faculty, not merely as to the 
amount or extent of the impressions we receive, but 
in regard also to the hind of sensation which the mind 
may be inherently capable of admitting. By the 
means of these senses we become acquainted with 
some of the properties of matter ; but it is only a 
few, and the intimate researches of our modern phys- 
ical science leave no room to doubt that there are 
many agencies in activity about us, which although 
they make themselves known in their ultimate conse- 
quences, are not directly cognizable either by the eye, 
the ear, the touch, the taste or the smell. The exter- 
nal world, as at present percej>tible to man in five 
species, may to other sentient natures be perceptible 
in twenty or in fifty kinds. If the mind may know the 
difference of hot and cold, hard and soft, loud or harsh 
and melodious, red and yellow, sweet and bitter, it 
may discriminate other qualities that belong to matter. 

We ought assuredly to believe that He who has 
endowed his rational family with powers fitting them 
to comprehend the reason of His works, and with a 
disposition to admire what they understand, will not 
in the end hide from them any thing which they might 
know with safety and advantage ; and that gradually, as 
one special and temporary motive of concealment after 
another is superseded, the veil will be drawn aside, so 
that what once was inscrutable shall be openly displayed 

Note F. Rousseau speaking of himself says, 
" This uncontrollable love of independence or liberty, 
in me, is less the result of pride than of indolence, 
incredible indolence. All is revolting to it, the smallest 
duties of civil life are insuj)portable. This is the rea- 
son why common intercourse with men is odious to 
me, and friendship dear, because in this there is no duty : 
we follow the heart and all is done. This is the rea- 
son why I fear benefits, every benefit exacts gratitude, 
and my heart is ungrateful because gratitude is a duty." 
— Dictionnaire Historique, imprisne a Caen, 1783. 

Note Gr. From Wardlaw. There is something 



NOTES. 407 

awfully sublime in this conception of Deity. Jeho- 
vah had, from eternity existed alone. Our minds are 
overwhelmed, when we attempt to think of infinite 
space, even as it is replenished with its millions of 
suns and systems of inhabited worlds : but still more 
are they baffled and put to a stand, when we try to 
form a conception of immensity, before sun or star ex- 
isted, before any creature had a being — of immensity, 
filled with nothing^but the pure, etherial, invisible es- 
sence of the great uncreated Spirit. 

Notes H. and I. omitted. 

Note J. Cousin. " It is not true that we begin 
by simple ideas, and then proceed to complex ideas. 
On the contrary, we begin with complex ideas and 
from them proceed to more simple." " All our first 
ideas are complex and for the evident reason, that all 
our faculties, or at least a great number of our facul- 
ties enter into exercise at the same time ; and their 
simultaneous action gives us at the same time a num- 
ber of ideas bound and blended together, which form 
a whole." — Elements of Psychology, page 176. 

Note L. Wiseman. For as a day appearing now 
and then of brighter and warmer sunshine doth fore- 
shew that the full burst of summer's glory is about to 
break upon the earth, so do certain privileged minds, 
by some mysterious communication, ever foresee, as 
it were, or rather feel sometime beforehand, and an- 
nounce the approach of some great and new system 
of truth. — Lectures on the connection between Science 
and revealed Religion. 

Notes M. and N. Cousin. I hold also that the. 
highest degree of knowledge is intuitive knowledge. 
The knowledge of time, space, personal identity, the 
infinite, all substantial existences, as also, the good and 
beautiful, has you know this peculiarity, that it is not 
grounded upon the senses, nor upon consciousness, 
but upon reason. 

When we interrogate reason about itself, to inquire 
into its, own principle, and the source of that absolute 
authority which characterizes it, we are forced to re- 
cognize that this reason is not ours, nor constituted by 



408 NOTES. 

us. Independent of our will, reason imposes upon 
us these truths. Reason makes its appearance in us, 
though it is not ourselves. Reason is impersonal. 
What is the principle of this reason which enlightens, 
without belonging to us. This principle is God, the 
first and last principle of every thing. — Psychology, 
pages 299, 300. 

Notes O. P. omitted. 

Note Q,. Cousin. " On our knees ourselves, be- 
fore the principle of our enthusiasm and our faith, we 
wish also to make others bend their knees to the same 
principle, to make them adore and serve* what we 
adore and serve. From hence religious authority, 
and then very soon tyranny. Men begin by believing 
in special revelations made in their favour ; they end 
by regarding themselves as delegates of God and 
Providence, commissioned, not only to enlighten and 
save teachable souls, but to enlighten and save, spite 
of themselves those who resist the truth and God. 
The 'folly of enthusiasm conducts very rapidly to the 
tyranny •of enthusiasm." — Psychology, page 303. 

Note R. Rousseau left in his portfolio, his Con- 
fessions in twelve books, six of which have been pub- 
lished. In this work, he announces himself as a bit- 
ter misanthrope, standing on the world in ruins, de- 
claring to the human race which he supposes there 
assembled, that no one in that immense crowd will 
dare to say, I am better than this man, (Rousseau.) 
This fanatic pride is not the worst reproach made 
against him. Under pretence of being sincere he 
dishonours the memory of his benefactress, Madame 
de Warens. He makes in these Confessions avowals 
which certainly prove that there were better men 
than himself, for the first six books scarce exhibit any 
thing but his vices : in the last six he speaks of the 
virtues which in his estimation balance them. — Par 
une Societe des Gens des Lettres. Dictionnaire His- 
torique imprimee a Caen, 1783. 

THE END. 



CORRECTIONS. 

20th page, 3d line from the top, read belong in- 
stead of belongs. 

61st page, 8th line from the top, read to emotion 
instead of to motion. 

170th page, 3d line from the bottom. This was 
true ; forgetfulness, &c. 

179th page, 16th line from the top, read as for of. 

208th page, 5th line from the top insert for after " in." 

211th page, 11th line from the top, read luxuriant 
for " luxurious." 

211th page, 2d line from bottom, for hedious read 
hideous. 

240th " 13th " " " read gods, instead of 

" God." 

339th page, 14th line from the bottom, read be 
greatly, instead q? " greatly be." 

345th page, 3d line from the bottom, read clean, 
instead of " clear." 

346th page, 4th line from the top, insert of after 
" emotions." 

367th page, 11th line from the top, read than in- 
stead of "but." 









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